Absolutely Real
by Girl With The Dandelion
Summary: 'I pause before saying my next words. I can't decide if they're a good idea or not, but apparently my mouth has a different schedule as it decides to say them anyway.'
1. Absolutely Real

I shake as another night mare ravages my body. I can feel the scream building up into my throat but in my sleeping state, there is nothing to halt its eruption. A savage sound leaves my lips and my eyes shoot open. Panting, I try to remember where I am. And then I feel them. Two strong arms wrap around me, chasing away the visions still fresh in my mind.

"I'm so sorry. I was getting a drink of water."

I felt truly despicable then. Poor Peeta. He couldn't even get a drink without me losing my mind. His apology was almost worse than the nightmare itself. At least in my nightmares I know eventually I will wake up. But when I hear Peeta apologize for something as trivial as getting water, I see exactly what kind of monster I am. I have taken so much from this boy; his sanity, his family, his home, his grip on reality, and now even his sleep. I cannot continue to wreak such havoc on him. I can't. I won't.

"Please don't say sorry. I don't deserve an apology. You didn't do anything wrong," I said, sounding angry. I am so frustrated with myself, I let it slip through when I speak. I felt Peeta slowly back away.

"Katniss-," I cut him off. What I was about to say would require strength and unrelenting anger towards myself. I had to do it, and if Peeta started to speak, I know I would lose my resolve. "Shh. I'm not angry with you. Just myself." Pause. Breathe. Go. "I can't keep doing this to you Peeta. You should leave." Even though that was the exact opposite of what I wanted, it needed to be done. I can't break him anymore than I already have. I felt him get off the bed, and I let a few tears fall. Not much; just a few. I've started allowing a little bit of tears to escape my eyes every now and then. Dr. Aurelius says its "healthy for my recovery". Whatever.

I hear his heavy footsteps move toward the door and I am taken back to the arena. He had such heavy footsteps even then. And then a few more tears fall. His leg. I forgot I am responsible for that as well. I expect to hear the door open, but I don't; I only hear it close. I hear Peeta move away from the door and into a chair in the corner. I roll over to face him.

"What are you doing?"

His head is in his hands and he starts to speak through his fingers. "I'm not leaving you, so if you don't want me in the bed, I'm sleeping in the chair."

I wipe away at my cheeks before he sees they are wet. "You're not sleeping in a chair Peeta. You have a house. Sleep in the bed there." He shakes his head.

"The farthest I'm willing to go is the couch in your living room, but I'm not leaving you like this."

Before I can protest it, he leans back and closes his eyes. "Goodnight Katniss."

"No! No no no no! You can't sleep in the chair Peeta! You'll get no sleep. It's incredibly uncomfortable!"

He opens his eyes again.

"So is being away from you. I'd rather this discomfort if you don't mind."

This was backfiring. I only wanted him to go so I didn't bother him anymore, not so he could be even more disturbed. "Fine," I spit. "Fine. Sleep in the chair."

I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for the onslaught of horror that is now my nightly routine.

* * *

><p>My father is walking through the forest, holding hands with Prim. He's pointing out a flower thats growing, its leaves and petals reaching for the sun. I'm trailing behind them, holding hands with Peeta. "What good are flowers? Unless you can use them as food, they're pointless." Peeta shakes his head sadly, looking down at me with shame. I don't have any clue as to why I said that. I actually love flowers; they're a reminder of good things for me. Memories. Dandelions. I have to look away because I cannot handle the disappointment Peeta feels towards me. I look back up at my father and Prim. "Let's go. This is stupid." Why am I saying these things?<p>

I feel Peeta's hand slip from mine. I know I have let him down again. I walk closer to my family, still far ahead of me. I can hear bombs bursting around me, and the smell of charred flesh makes my stomach crawl. I continue forward. Prim is bent over, picking up the flower, tearing it from its roots. The stem bursts into flames; the flames make their way up Prim's arm. I continue forward. Prim is now completely on fire, soundlessly staring at me. I continue forward. How is it that no matter how much farther I walk to her, the distance between us is the same as when I started? I'm growing angry now; where is my father? Why is he not dousing Prim? Oh. That's right. He's dead. Was he ever with us during this walk? I know the answer to that. I continue forward.

"Katniss? Katniss?" Prim is calling for me. Now I'm running. And she still isn't any closer. Finally, she stops calling my name. Its silent. The bombs are no longer exploding; the smoke has begun to clear. Prim is no longer on fire. I've reached her side now. As I bend to hug her, my fingers make contact with her back, and she turns into a pile of dust. Screaming, I collapse where I stand, covered in what was once Prim. The flower she had held in her hands is back in its place, only now Peeta is reaching for it. I shake my head. "Don't. That flower; it killed Prim." He reaches for it anyway.

"Please Peeta. Please. I can't lose you too. Please." His hand stops. "You've already lost me Katniss." I hear the bombs again. I smell the death again. I feel Peeta's fingers brush across my cheek, inching their way to my throat. I can't open my eyes though; I know if I do, I'll see Peeta gone from me. I can't open them. I can't.

I force open my eyes to see the sun shining into my room. I can hear the mockingjays whistling outside my window. I feel a little cold, having kicked off the blanket at some point. But all of this is not what holds my attention. What captivates me is the hand holding mine. Peeta moved his chair sometime in the night so that he is now by my side. His head is slumped against the bed, facedown. His back rises and falls with each breath he takes. He must have gotten hot at some time in the night, because his shirt is gone. I glance over his many scars and feel regret. And still, even though I'm sure I was thrashing and screaming, he holds my hand.

"Katniss."

I look back to his face, still in my sheets. His hand stirs in mine. I feel him go rigid and then completely still. His muscles are tight and his hand begins to heat up in mine. He begins to breathe heavily. He's still asleep; so what is he doing? I think back to one of our nights on the train.  
><em><br>"Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?"_

_"I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror."_

This is Peeta having a nightmare. All at once I wish last night had never happened, solely for the fact Peeta would be lying next to me and I could wrap _my_arms around him. But it did happen. And I can't keep wishing for impossible things.

I let go of Peeta's hand and get out of the bed, quickly maneuvering my arms around his slouched figure. I whisper into his ear.

"Peeta, it's not real. It isn't real." Peeta quickly snaps out of it. He bolts out of the chair and I stumble backwards. He rushes around to face me and catches my arm before I fall. I'm afraid of who I might see. Will it be Peeta, the boy with the bread, the boy who saved me when I didn't know I needed to be saved? Or will it be Peeta, the boy who's been tortured into hating me, the boy who needs me to save him?  
>His grip on my arm loosens and falls to my hand.<p>

I dread what his nightmare was about. Was it about something from the arena, something horrible he could only understand? Or was it a tampered memory, projecting me as a killer bent on destroying Peeta.

His hand tightens around my own. I open my eyes then, expecting the boy with the bread to be looking back at me. But he's not. He's looking down, his hair covering his eyes.

I reach my free hand forward, and brush it back. I want to see his eyes. He stops me though, taking my hand and pulling it down with his.

"Did I wake you?" His voice is ragged, as though he's been screaming. He never even made a sound.

I felt despicable again. He was worried about waking me when I know he was having a nightmare. He must know that I know.

"I was already awake."

He sighed in relief. "Good; you haven't been getting much sleep lately." I examine the bags under his eyes. He catches my glare and looks away, no doubt trying to hide the evidence. "Now that we're both up, would you like me to make breakfast?"

His words cut into me like a knife. "Breakfast? Peeta, you just had a nightmare. I'm still shaking from my own; how is it you're so calm? How come you don't break every time you wake up? Honestly, seeing you in the morning holds me together, but I'm still not as calm as you. And I know you had a nightmare. I know it. You told me yourself on the train how you're nightmares take you. Real or not real?"

He doesn't even have to think.

"Real. But do you remember what else I told you that night? What my nightmares were about?"

I did. "You said they were about losing me. And that you were ok once you realized I was here."

He nods. "That's why I'm ok. I know you're here." I was stunned. How could they still about losing me? After his torturing, after all President Snow had done to make sure Peeta felt I was his enemy, he still feared losing me? And how could he just be immediately alright? I wish I could be so assured by his presence. It was almost the exact opposite for me. In my nightmares, Peeta confirmed what I already feared; that I had lost him. And in reality, every time I would see that glazed look in his eye, every time he clenches his fist, I feel that fear confirmed. I have lost Peeta; I have lost the boy with the bread.

"So, breakfast? I'm getting kind of hungry Katniss. I don't mind making it, really."

His voice pulls me from my thoughts. Here he was, someone who had been broken and stepped on more times than I care to count, offering to make breakfast like it was no big deal.

"I mind. You shouldn't have to do everything for me. I don't deserve it." He sighs.

"Katniss, really, I don't mind. Please let me."

I roll my eyes. "Why Peeta? I'm perfectly capable of making us breakfast."

He smiles and I feel my stomach do sort of a flip flop. "That's a bit of an overstatement." I feel myself scowl. Sure, I wasn't a great cook but that isn't the point.

"Peeta, you know what I mean. I don't want you doing everything. I'm here too. I can help. You shouldn't have to do it all."

"I like doing things though Katniss. I need to do things. I need to keep moving," his voice is barely a whisper now. "I can't stop for even a second."

So Peeta isn't doing as well as he plays himself out to be. "What do you mean?"

He sits back down in his chair and so I follow suit and sit across from him on the floor.

"I have to keep doing things, whether it is painting or baking or cleaning or anything like that. It seems monotonous, but I have to do them. Otherwise, I start to think about the arena, or when I was in the Capitol and I can't keep thinking those things. If I do, I'll lose it again. I'll lose my mind, and I've only just found it." His hand is shaking just a little bit now, and so I take it into my own to steady him.

"Every nightmare I have isn't about losing you, but for the majority they are. So when I see you in the morning, alive, it instantly reassures me that while everything isn't perfect, it is going to be ok. I have had everything I took for granted ripped right out from underneath me. I need that faith that what I have now is definite. I have to constantly assure myself throughout the days that everything is real, and that its here. I'm so afraid of losing it all again, and so I take comfort in the little things. You're my stability Katniss, and so yes, I would like to make you breakfast. Because I can."

I feel tears begin to form and I hope more than anything else at that moment that they do not fall. These tears would _not _be healthy. I need to stay strong for Peeta. I can't cry.

"Ok. Breakfast it is."

He chuckles. "Come on Katniss. What do you really want to say?"

I shake my head. "Nope." I pause before saying my next words. I can't decide if they're a good idea or not, but apparently my mouth has a different schedule as it decides to say them anyway.

"If I say what I want to, there's no going back."

He frowns. "What does that mean?"

I stand up and face the door. "Just trust me Peeta." I begin to walk forward but he stops me.

"No Katniss. What did that mean?" I could feel him start to shake again.

Instantly I brought my hand to his cheek. "It just means that I can't say what I really feel."

"And what do you feel?"

"I don't. I haven't been able to really feel in a very long time Peeta." I stop talking because if I keep going I know I'll regret it. Things will change. Our dynamic will change. I'm not so sure that I want it to.  
>Peeta and I are in a comfortable place. It may not be ideal having to rouse each other constantly from torturous nightmares every night, but it works for us. If I go down this road, if I explore what I feel for Peeta, I'm afraid of what I'll find. I've never been the vulnerable type of girl. I keep it bottled up, contained inside forever. I'm so afraid of having a family, of having love, because I am not like Peeta. I cannot find any stability in this world. I constantly grapple with the reality that everything can be taken from me all over again.<p>

But I know that I can't lose Peeta. If I tell him how I really feel, I'll become emotionally compromised and so will he. Nothing good will come of it. Nothing. Except Peeta would be mine. And I would be his. We would be each others. That was a future I could believe in. The steps to get that far though are terrifying.

"I don't believe that for one second Katniss. I just told you how I'm moving on; how are you?"

It isn't a question I'm expecting, and I definitely don't have an answer. The mockingjays still whistle outside. They are even more audible now that Peeta and I have fallen into a silence.

"I don't think I am Peeta. I don't think I've moved forward at all."

The shock of what I've just said surprises me. I haven't. I have not moved on with my life one bit. I still do nothing during the day, and I still cling to Peeta at night. No wonder he does it all; I'm useless! This time, I can't stop the tears. As much as I try, I just can't control them.

I feel his hands, his strong battered hands, wipe them away. "It's ok to cry Katniss. I know you hate it, but sometimes you just have to." This brings on more tears.

"Why are you here Peeta? I'm useless. I sit around all day and feel sorry for myself. I haven't helped you at all! I can't even help myself!"

He pulls me into his arms so that now I am in his lap. "Katniss, that's not true at all. You have helped me tremendously. After what I did to you, you could have run countless times. You could have let me go, you could have killed me. But you didn't. That gave me so much hope. I didn't realize it at the time, but that night you kissed me to get me to stay, that was the night I knew I could rise above the hijacking. I knew I would be ok as long as I had you there to help me. Your very presence gives me strength."

My fingertips brush his bare chest and he shivers. My hands must be like ice. Still crying, I say, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you and going with Beetee. I wish I could take it back. Everything. I wish I could take back that very first reaping."

His arms hold me closer. "I don't. I wouldn't be holding you now if it weren't for that day. There are plenty of things that happened between that day and now that I would trade for almost anything, but Effie pulling my name out of the bowl isn't one of them."

I lift my head. "How can you say that after everything you've been put through because of it?"

"Katniss, when you volunteered yourself, I had to bite my tongue from offering myself in your place. I knew that if I did that, if I broke the rules, it would make things so much worse for you. When Effie called out my name, I almost smiled. It meant that if I couldn't take your place, I could give it my all to make sure no one would take yours as winner. From the very beginning I was thankful it was my name that was pulled. I still am.

"Unconditionally, it has and will always be you."

I'm not crying anymore. I am not doing anything except staring into Peeta's eyes. "I've hurt you so much…," I whisper, bringing my fingers to his cheek. He turns his face into my hand and kisses it, just like he did in the cave. I notice the burn marks on his neck. I'd never thought about how he had gotten them before.

"How close were you to the explosion in the Capitol?"

He blinks at this turn of events. "Not that close at all, why?"

I touch one of his healing burns. "How did you get the burns?"

"I pulled you from the fire."

I'm speechless. How many times had Peeta saved my life? It was no longer just a debt several times over I owed to Peeta. I owed him everything. My life, my sanity, my heart. But it was more than that. I didn't owe those things just to him. I owed them to myself; I owed myself happiness. Stability is what Peeta had called it. Yes. Peeta is my stability. My fingers trace the mark along his neck and he shivers again. I pull my hand back. "I'm sorry, I know my hands are cold."

He just looks at me. "No they're not." I catch a flicker of something pass through his eyes. I know that look. It's the same one I saw written on my face when I re-watched the tapes of the games. The same look I had in the cave and on the beach. The same one he has always had.

Slowly, he leans down as I move my head up. And he kisses me. It's the first time we've kissed since the unfortunate time in the Capitol. The first time ever when death wasn't just around the corner. The first time when we were truly and completely alone. The hunger builds inside me. This is a hunger I am not accustomed to. Every hunger I have ever had can be satisfied, but never the one I feel with Peeta.  
>Breathless I pull back and Peeta growls. I look at his blue eyes, checking to make sure they're unclouded and sure. Before I can decide if they are, Peeta is kissing me again. My fingers instinctively reach around his neck, holding him as close as I can. When his hands slip around my waist, I can't help but sigh. When I finally have to pull back again to breathe, his forehead rests against mine.<p>

"This is real, right?" I don't answer right away, still trying to decide myself. Where did all of my indecision go? I have fought so long against this, feeling that my life should continue on with Gale. And maybe it should have, if things had gone the way they should. But it is not Gale who I long for. Not at all. In fact, I don't think it ever has been.

The truth is, my life did not go the way it should have. It went the way it was supposed to go. I am supposed to be with Peeta, I know that now. All along, it was always Peeta. Even before the first games, I thought of Peeta nearly every day and the lives of me and my family that I owed to him. Now, I can't stop thinking of Peeta. It is no longer a debt though. I feel like a debt is something unwanted, something you are obliged to repay. I feel no obligation as I link my fingers through his. I feel no obligation to say what I really want to say.

"Real. Absolutely real." I still do not think I deserve Peeta. How can I? I have wronged him in countless ways. I've, albeit unintentionally, uprooted an entire world with my recklessness. I'm responsible for the pain and misery of so many people, including this marvelous boy I am sitting on top of. But if I am who Peeta wants, if I give him the strength he gives me, who am I to decide such things? If I give Peeta even an ounce of the courage and the…stability he has given me, I will never leave his side. I lost myself when I lost Peeta; I cannot do that to him. Not again.

He kisses me again and I don't ever want it to end. Ever. I cling to Peeta, pulling him as close as humanly possible. I feel his lips move from mine to my neck and I can't help but think I have never felt this perfect in my life. I shouldn't be allowed to feel this good, right? Peeta's lips have found my own again. Maybe one day I will learn to overcome my doubts.  
>I think about how our story started with burnt bread, and as District 12's ceremonial traditions go, it would end with burnt bread. Even then our future was etched in stone. How could I not have known this all along? His breath hot against my skin, Peeta whispers,<p>

"You love me. Real or not real?"

With all of my heart and without an inch of doubt, I reply.

"Real."

**Author's Note: **This is my first ever Hunger Games ff. Having only started (and finished) the series two weeks ago, I think it's safe to say I have never obsessed over anything like I have this series. From the very moment Peeta squeezed Katniss' hand in the first reaping, I have supported Peeta one hundred percent and I will continue to do so with all of my soul. Please let me know what you thought. I tried to remain true to the characters, but if anyone seemed OOC, don't be afraid to let me know. I always appreciate a review.

And with today's technology, just a simple click of the mouse, and you can REVIEWWWW. :D


	2. Completely Perfect

His hands shook and crushed the cup he held. I heard the ceramic pieces hit the floor and I could see the blood fall with it. His free hand lashed out and grabbed the edge of the counter. He was hunched over and I could see the sweat drip from his cheeks. Or were those tears?

Did I think that me confessing my love for him would make all of our problems go away? The shock resonating within me proves that's exactly what I thought. I don't know what to do. If I get any closer, Peeta might just have to kill me. If I stay away, I'll be breaking what's left of him; what's left of me. Everything looked so much brighter yesterday. So much more vivid and possible. We were damaged; but we weren't alone. We were broken together. But these flashbacks that Peeta have is a reminder that we will never be alright. The Capitol has managed to steal even an imperfect future from us.

"Peeta…it's not real. Whatever you're seeing, it isn't real." Forgetting the risk, I let my own cup fall to the floor and I walk forward. I run my hand up and down his arm that's gripping the counter still. When I reach his hand, I feel him pull away. "Peeta. Its me. Remember me? Don't forget." I don't allow him to take his hand from mine; I hold on tighter, as if it's a possession someone is trying to steal. I hold onto his hand as if it being taken away is some sort of crime against nature. For me, in this moment, that's exactly what it is. Still shaking, he sinks to the floor; I go down with him. He closes his eyes, and for a moment I think he's lost consciousness, but then I hear him moan.

"Peeta Mellark. Hold on; don't lose it. Not now. Remember where you are? You're in my house. Our house. You're home Peeta. With me." I hesitate to say my name. Will it trigger some other grotesque memory of me, something terrible I'd done made worse by the Capitol's manipulations?

"Home," he whispers. My hand is squeezing his so hard it hurts my owns fingers. "Home," he says again. Gently, I lay his head down on my lap. Still holding his hand, I brush away strands of hair that cover his eyes. Slowly, afraid of what may happen should he see me in his current state of mind, I kiss his forehead. "That's right. Home." We stay like this for another hour or so. He in my lap, me brushing his forehead.

"I'm sorry Katniss. I'm so sorry." I jump a little at the sound of his voice. He had been so quiet I thought he may have fallen asleep. He starts to move away. "Don't," I whisper. I need him to stay. I need him to stay on my lap, with me. If he moves, if he leaves this spot, I am afraid he will disappear into thin air, a memory of a better time. "Don't go." He stops pulling away, but he won't look at me.

"Katniss…did I hurt you?"

I push my lips together to keep from crying. "No," I said, my voice cracking. "Then why are you crying? Did I scare you?" He sounds so worried.

"Yes." He starts to leave me again. "I wasn't afraid of you. I was afraid of losing you. These flashbacks, my nightmares, I'm terrified one day you won't wake up, or one day I'll lose myself to a reality that doesn't exist. I'm terrified Peeta, for you, not of you."

My voice is now nothing but a whisper. "There's nothing you do could do to make me afraid of you."

He jumps to his feet, his face red with what I presume is anger. "I could have killed you Katniss! Do you understand that?"

Now I'm angry. "I could kill you right now if I wanted to!" Maybe these are not the best or smartest things to say to someone who has been brainwashed into thinking I'm a killer set on ending his life but it's all I can come up with. "That doesn't mean I'm going to though! Anything can happen at anytime! And you didn't hurt me at all. Not even a little bit." Finally he opens his eyes and his mouth falls to the floor.  
>"What?"<p>

He's staring at my stomach, horror etched into his expression. I look down and see the blood smears on my nightshirt. I then do the most absurd thing. Laugh. I'm laughing because Peeta thinks I'm bleeding. I'm laughing because just hours ago we were discussing our evening plans. I'm laughing because I'm insane. Tears form in my eyes as my laughing continues.

"Look at us! We're so messed up," I say, barely able to get the words out through my sobs and laughter. Peeta looks absolutely terrified watching me lose my mind. Trying to subdue the giggles, I walk over to the cupboard and pull out some bandages. "Your blood. Not mine," I whisper. Understanding dawns on his face and he finally notices the cuts on his hand. He reaches for the bandages, but I hold them away.

"No, I'll do it." I slowly wrap his hand up so as not to hurt him anymore. By now, I've stopped laughing altogether, my temporary bout of madness gone. "Peeta, I meant what I said yesterday. I love you. And if you love someone, you stay with them. Always."

He must have noticed the tone in my voice because he lifts my chin so that now I'm looking directly into his eyes. "Always," he repeats. I smile, although I can feel it isn't a full smile, so I lean my cheek against his hand and inhale. Cinnamon.

"What a great end to the day, huh?" I tremble a little when Peeta crushes me to him. I don't ever want to move from this spot, from the protective case of Peeta's arms. This is where I feel safest. This moment, this position; it makes me feel like everything is ok, if only for awhile. But he has moments when he isn't Peeta, when he isn't my Peeta. And in those moments, being in his arms is the last place I should be; and the only place I want to be.

I feel Peeta's arms loosen around me and so I tighten my hold on him. I know Peeta; he thinks he needs to pull away because he doesn't want to hurt me, or make this situation worse. He doesn't understand how I really feel. That's my own fault; I've never explains to him just how much he means to me. My head is against his chest and so my words are muffled but I hope he hears them because I lack the courage to repeat them. "I heard you and Gale that night. And it isn't a matter of survival for me. It never has been when it came to the two of you." He tenses up. This is the first time I've mentioned Gale since Peeta's return to District 12. It occurs to me then that maybe Peeta mistook my silence about Gale as a sort of longing. It's nearly the opposite. I do miss Gale, but not in a romantic way. I miss the childhood friend I had. I miss the moments when Gale knew exactly what I wanted to say, or do. But I didn't miss Gale when his arms weren't holding me up. I didn't want to see Gale in the mornings. The sight of Gale didn't make my heartbeat so fast I thought it might stop. I didn't feel six thousand different emotions when I saw Gale. My silence about Gale was not because I longed for him, but because I hadn't thought about him so much now that Peeta was back.

"But to answer that question, its you I can't survive without. I can't _live _without you. I tried to. I really did. And I was a walking disaster. I have never had to be sedated that many times in my life. I hardly remember the first half of my time spent in District 13. They had to knock me out that many times. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't exist in a world where you didn't." He pulled me away from him so he could look at me. I wouldn't meet his gaze though; I hate feeling this vulnerable, this open. I hate it passionately.

"Katniss you don't have to explain yourself to me," he said. His lips met my forehead and I closed my eyes. I shook my head against his chest. "I have to explain it for me. I have to say this."

He wrapped his arms back around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. "Alright. I'll listen to whatever you have to say."

I take a deep breath. Just like with yesterday, once I said what I was about to, there would be no going back. I've come to realize though, I don't ever want to go back. Not without Peeta at least.

"For a moment, I did choose Gale. I did. It was the decision I had always expected myself to make. He was the easy choice, the closest choice I could make without uprooting my entire life. During the first Games, I couldn't understand myself. I knew I had feelings for Gale, but I still couldn't get you off of my mind, regardless of where we were. And when they whipped Gale, I admit, I did. I chose him. I chose the Seam. I chose the life that would be the closest to what I was used to. I came so close to losing him that I thought he was the reality I couldn't live without. But even then, even though I chose him, I couldn't let you go. I couldn't say goodbye." I stopped talking. I had to clear my throat. I didn't want Peeta to ever know that it wasn't always him, even though I know he already did. I never wanted to hear myself say it, and to now be here doing what I fear most, well, I feel nauseated to say the least.

"And when they announced the Quarter Quell, I let go of every decision I had made and I chose you."

I stopped talking again because it was getting hard to breathe. I've done a lot of confessing the past two days and I can only handle so much more. But I needed so badly to say these things, and courage to speak doesn't happen for me very often.

"I chose you. I chose your life above my own, above the lives of those I held dear. I chose to get you back alive no matter the cost, because a world where you don't exist isn't a world worth living in. When you hit that force field _my _heart stopped. For just a few minutes, my life lost all meaning. A world where you did not exist in, a world that took you from me, was not a world I wanted to fight for. I chose you. I choose you. It's unconditional for me as well." There. I said it. I said it and I couldn't take it back even if I wanted to.

Peeta didn't say a word. He didn't have to. All he had to do was kiss me and I felt so much relief. One kiss and it was almost like this evening hadn't happened. I nearly forgot Peeta had been lost to me for a second. But when I tried to press my fingers against his, I felt the bandages instead. Peeta winced and it all came crashing back to me. Oh. We aren't ok. We never will be. I could lose him forever at any given moment. He could lose me the same way. The Capitol has fallen and eventually will be just a terrible memory and even after that, will be reduced to nothing but history on the pages of a schoolbook. And yet, the ramifications on my life, and Peeta's life and everyone who is alive now, and the generations to come after, will never stop. The children of the future may not have to worry about being reaped into a fight to the death, but they would have to be raised by parents who knew the absolute terror of just waiting. Waiting to hear your name called. Sobbing when it was. Or even if it wasn't. Even if you hadn't been chosen, you most likely knew the child who was. We all had nightmares, some more than others, but our generation will always be plagued by these memories. And we are expected to raise the next generation? Fat chance.

Peeta took my hand with his good one and entwined our fingers. I kiss his cheek and pull him towards the bathroom. He raises his eyebrows, wondering what my motive is. "I have to clean your cut." I tug him forward. "No offense Katniss, but can I clean it?" I turn around. "Why?" He shuffles his feet and looks to the ground. "Well, you're kind of rough."

I snort and roll my eyes. "I promise to be gentle," I say, my voice oozing with sarcasm. He groans. When we've reached the bathroom, I make him stand in front of me while I sit on the counter. Gently, I unroll the bandage around his hand. He has only a few cuts, but they're an angry red sort of color and I'm glad I remembered to clean them out. None of them are very deep at all, in fact, some are only scrapes. I may have overreacted when I bandaged them as heavily as I did. But all I can think of is how he got them, how he was lost to his horrifying "memories" and then I feel the tears begin. I dab at his hand with a cotton ball and some antiseptic, willing my salty tears to not fall into his open wounds. I sniffle as lightly as I can. I don't want Peeta to know all it takes is a few scratches, and not even my own, to make me cry.

I make sure I barely touch Peeta. I don't mean to be rough; I'm just so used to the burning of the antiseptic that I forget it really does hurt. He pulls his hand away.

"What? I tried to be gentle!" My voice cracks, giving away my hidden tears.

"Katniss are you crying?"

I clear my throat. "No." My voice comes out way too deep, almost making me sound like a man.

"You've never been a good liar," Peeta says, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine. Give me back your hand." Obediently, he places his hand back into my palm and I continue my work. "I don't like seeing you hurt," I whisper, still swiping away. "It brings back memories."

I feel him shake. "I don't like seeing you cry. It brings back memories." Doing my best to hold back the tears that his words bring, I look right into his eyes and say, "I promise to do my best to not cry." I stick out my hand and he takes it and shakes it. "I promise to do my best to try and not get myself hurt." Still shaking hands, I say, "It's a deal." And then I smile an absurdly large smile. Peeta grins back at me and sweeps me off the counter into his arms. He tosses me on the bed and flops down on the other side; I'm laughing hysterically the entire time. I scoot closer to him and lay my head on his chest.  
>"This is my favorite place to be you know. Lying here with you, just the two of us. It feels almost perfect," he says, and his arms tighten around me. I trace the lighter cuts on his hand. "Almost perfect," I whisper. "It's always going to be almost perfect isn't it? Almost, but never quite completely."<p>

His lips are against my hair, but I can clearly hear him. "Almost perfect is pretty close to me. I can't tell the difference between almost and completely when I'm with you." I roll over and kiss him on the lips.  
>Peeta is so good with words, so amazingly talented. He can paint, he can bake, he can act, and he's the only one qualified to save me.<p>

"You're like a superhero, you know that?" This earns me one of his laughs, and I smile.

"A superhero? You think I'm a superhero?" He lightly tickles my ribs and I instantly regret being honest. I swat his hands away. "No, no I don't. Not anymore," I say grumpily, sounding like a child. Peeta rolls over so that I am now underneath him. His hands are on either side of my head. He leans forward and kisses me so fiercely that I'm instantly breathless. Hunger.

His hands wrap around me tightly, pulling me up to him. He seems to have forgotten his injury, but I remember. "Peeta, your hand," I manage to say against his lips.

"I could really care less about that right now Katniss." I unwrap his hands from around me and force them in between us. "I do, because look," we both look down, "It's bleeding." He groans and rolls back over to his side of the bed. "Nurse Katniss likes to appear at the worst times," he grumbles.

"You wont be saying that when I save your hand from gangrene." He just looks at me, skepticism written all over his face. "Besides, it's not like you'll never kiss me again." He grins at that.

"When will you understand the effect you have on people; the effect you have on me? For me to just stop kissing you? Well, its almost like getting hit with a train, or at least what I imagine getting hit with a train would feel like," he says. I shake my head.

"That's silly. Getting hit with a train is permanent and irreparable. Not kissing me? Very very temporary and easily fixed." I rebind his hand and kiss it quickly. "See? I fixed your hand and we're right back where we left off."

Peeta just smiles lightly, his eyes looking troubled. "Peeta? Are you alright?" I'm immediately worried. When Peeta doesn't respond right away, I expect the worst. Is he having a flashback? Am I in danger? I edge myself closer to him.

"Katniss, can I ask you something?"

I let out a breath of relief. His voice is normal enough, but I detect hesitance in his tone. "Of course," I answer, grabbing his hand. I haven't touched him in a couple minutes and his skin not on mine feels slightly unnatural.

"Will you marry me?"

My heart isn't beating. Do I have a heart? Wait. How do I breathe? Is it in and out or out and in? I feel something touch my cheeks. Hands. Those are hands right? Why is the room spinning? I smell cinnamon. Oh, yes. Hands. Those are Peeta's hands holding my face. Suddenly the room is completely still and I take a deep breath. Marry Peeta? How can I marry Peeta? I'm so…well, I'm Katniss Everdeen. I was the girl on fire. I was the Mockingjay. I was not wife material. No, how can I say that? Only yesterday I was thinking about how I knew I would marry Peeta. I never thought he would ask me this soon though. It was only yesterday after that I worked up even the courage to tell him I loved him! I feel his hands still. If it weren't for his hands, I think I may have passed out by now.

His hands hold me steady and still. Cinnamon, flour, paint, and now antiseptic. Antiseptic. Cuts. Nightmares. Horror. His hands hold me still. They make me forget. "Katniss, you don't have to say yes you know." I can hear the sadness in his voice. Did I do that? I didn't mean to. He just took me by surprise. I decide to say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I can't Peeta."

He nods his head, looking away from me. His hands fall to his sides. "I can't marry you, because I would have to break my promise."

He looks back up at me. "What promise?"

"To not cry again. I'm trying really hard here, and this is not helping my resolve whatsoever."

He is very serious when he answers me. "You can kick me if you want to, this way both of our promises will be moot." I laugh, almost in a whisper. It's a breathless sort of laugh.

"No, I don't want to kick you. But I can't guarantee I can hold up my end of the bargain much longer."

He's holding my face again. "Katniss?"

I blink, and the stupid tears fall. I hate tears. They make me feel girly and disgusting. They usually are the predecessor of horrible things. Not every time though. "Yes." He's staring at me. I say it louder. "Yes. I will."

His lips crash against mine and I know, I just know, this is it. This is the best my life can get, and I am absolutely satisfied with that. His hands tangle in my hair and I fall back against our pillows.

"I was wrong. I can definitely tell the difference between almost and completely perfect," he whispers. His lips move to my neck, my throat and back to my neck. His lips are right by ear now. "This is completely perfect."

**Author's Note: **So, I never intended Absolutely Real to have multiple chapters, but this was spilling around in my brain, and I wanted to get it off my chest. Personally, I think this chapter is sort of a ramble, but I'd love to know what you think. I've considered maybe doing a few more chapters leading up to the birth of the baby Mellarks ;) depending on how this chapter is received. So, let me know your thoughts!


	3. For Better or Worse

Frustrated, I threw down the pan into the sink and flipped on the faucet. Another meal completely wasted! Already, my first week of practicing for housewifery is turning out to be an absolute waste of time! How do women do this? I can't just sit around all day, waiting for my husband to come home and sweep me off my feet after a hard day's work of cleaning and cooking. Peeta was off helping to rebuild the District, and I was staring at a stove. It just isn't me.

I'm a hunter. Huntress. I hunt things. I don't sit around and baste chickens; I kill them and skin them. I shoot the deer; I don't stuff it with vegetables. After making sure I'd dumped the garbage I'd concocted into the trash can, I grab my bow and head out the door. Just as I close the door behind me, I bump into a rather flustered looking Peeta. Immediately, my mind begins to worry me with every single negative possibility. I put my hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

"What's wrong?"

He smiles, and some of my concerns drift away. But his eyes aren't clear yet. "Peeta?" He blinks.

"It's nothing. I just…I missed you." I feel his hands lock around my back, pulling me close to him. I reach forward and kiss his cheek.

"What happened?"

He shivers just a little. "It's nothing."

I press my fingers to his cheek, drawing his face down to look at mine. "Peeta, what happened?"

He sighs. "I was walking and I passed the sight of the old bakery, and I might have blacked out for a second, but then I was fine. And I came here. And here we are."

I passed my hands over my face. "A second? Peeta, what happened? You have got to tell me!"

He backed away, his voice rising. "Nothing happened Katniss! I had a spasm, and then the next thing I can remember is being here, with you."

I could hardly breathe. "You found you're way back to me, even in your haze? You still found me?"

He shook his head, a small smile lighting up his features. "Don't I always?"

I took a deep breath, prepared to go on a rant about how I need to have him supervised at all times, to make sure he never remembers things alone. To make sure _I _never leave him alone. But before I can say any of these things, these very important vital things, Peeta is kissing me, and I can't remember any of what I had to say. His hands are so tight against me, and I wish they were tighter. I reach my own around his neck and pull his face as close to mine as I can, without damaging our skulls. I pull back so that I can attempt to breathe, but Peeta's lips just slide with grace from my lips to my jaw, and then to my throat and then to my neck. I still can't breathe. His fingers find my own and suddenly I remember why I was outside. I remember what I have to say. I pull back. He groans.

"Katniss, I'm fine! See? I'm here, right next to you, perfectly fine. I sleepwalked; that's all."

I roll my eyes as dramatically as I can. "Sleepwalked? Is that what you're calling it?" I stand my ground. "No. You're not allowed to leave without me; you're not allowed to be alone."

He looks at me, his right eyebrow raised. "I'm not allowed to?" His deep voice turns my bones to mush. I still stand my ground. "Nope. Not allowed. I must be present in your life one hundred percent of your day." He kisses me again and I feel him smile against my own. "I can live with that." When I pull back, he repeats his jaw to neck process. I can feel my resolve slipping away; it just feels so good. I drag myself away once more. I notice the sun slipping farther bit by bit down the sky.

"I'm sorry to say, but this," I gesture between the two of us, "is going to have to wait. I'm going hunting." He mumbles about trains and kissing me and I just smile and push him away. "You sir, are coming with me." He holds his arms up in mock surrender. "Please, no, anything but that! We'll never eat again if I come with you." I laugh, but I think Peeta can tell it wasn't whole hearted. His joke made me think of the lacking two legs he has. "I'll go visit Haymitch. How does that sound?"

I nod, skeptically at best. "I guess...but if anything happens, someone better come find me."

"I promise," Peeta responds, quickly embracing me again. "I wish we never had to eat again." I chuckle, and so does he.

"I'll be back before you know it. It's just hunting."

* * *

><p>I catch sight of the deer I intend on taking down; a large buck. I know instantly that this creature is doomed. I am a huntress, and it is my prey. Pulling my arrow back, my hand jerks when I see what the deer is standing in. The arrow flies into a tree, alerting the stag to my presence and he takes off. I just stare at the space where he had been. A field of yellow primrose. And then I lose my mind. I start hyperventilating, and I fall to my knees. In the back of my mind, I wonder why I am reacting this way. Why. I see primrose flowers everyday, outside my window, right where Peeta planted them. Why.<p>

It occurs to me then, just exactly why I am on the floor, crumpled into a sobbing blob of flesh. I was going to kill that buck. He was mine; one arrow, and he'd have been dead, just another piece of meat to add to my collection of kills. He would have fallen, dead, lifeless; into a field of primrose. I almost killed that deer, and his body would have crushed the hundreds of flowers that now represented my dead baby sister. Crushed. Maimed. Damaged beyond repair. Gone. And it was my entire fault. I clutched my arms around me, holding myself as tight as I could. Maybe I could keep myself together; maybe I wouldn't fall completely apart.

I try to calm my breathing and I attempt to take in a deep breath when my throat closes up and I instead dry heave. I can't remember what Prim smells like. My little duck. How could I not remember? I am a monster! I take life, and then I don't even have the decency, the heart, the _humanity, _to remember my victims?  
>This time, I do not try to keep myself together. I let it all go. I scream one big scream and then I am back on the ground. Somewhere in my daze I notice the moon has risen.<p>

How long have I been in the woods? I'm trembling, mostly from the cold, somewhat because of the stupor I am still in, and a little bit because of the two arms I am now being carried in. This isn't right. I should not be held; I should be thrown. Or left to rot. Numbly, I swat at the arms holding me.

"Shh. Katniss, it's me. Don't leave me."  
><em><br>Don't let him take you from me. _What a joke. How could something be taken from me if it never belonged to me?  
><em><br>Stay with me. _How dare I ask that of him? Like a true terror, I kissed a boy I had no intention of loving. I broke a heart I knew would break with my actions. I was merciless. I feel Peeta slip something onto my finger, and I can't quite figure out why or what it is, but I am instantly comforted, if only for a moment.

"Don't leave me Katniss. Stay with me."  
><em><br>Always. _I say nothing.

I'm vaguely aware of being set down and left alone. But only long enough for my fiancé to start a fire. That's when I notice we are inside our home. I silently look around, hardly able to hold my head up. And then he's there, wrapping me in a blanket and enfolding me in his arms. He kisses the top of my head.

"Katniss, are you there?"

I start to cry again. Peeta crushes me to his chest, and I just cry. Why does this always happen? If it isn't me, its Peeta. Or if we both manage to keep it together, we have to go take care of Haymitch or something. Why? Why can't we just be sane and put together? I remember Peeta earlier, "sleepwalking" to me. Another memory relapse, causing him to see unspeakable horrors; he could have lost it completely. I'm his stability. That was what he had told me. Me. I make him stable. And I left him to his own devices today. All of a sudden, I am mortified by what I'm doing. Peeta doesn't need this! He fights so hard everyday to avoid this garbage! I sit up, effectively ending the safety I feel in his arms. I begin to get up off of the couch, but Peeta pulls me back down, holding me still.

"If you think I'm letting you go, you're insane."

Right. Because that wasn't already evident.

"Katniss, what happened?"

I might as well tell him. I'm starting to think clearly again, and he has a right to know. I glance down at the engagement ring on my finger. I don't remember wearing it out hunting. I remember Peeta put something on my finger; I remember it felt temporarily good. It felt like it belonged. Only being on my hand for six weeks now, it felt as if it were apart of me, like another limb. Just like Peeta.

"I can't remember what Prim smelled like."

All at once I'm back in his embrace. I wrap my arms around him, holding him to me like he's the air and I need him to survive this moment. Peeta is my air.

"I can't forget Peeta! I can't! I'll lose my mind if I do. I will. I'm starting to. I can't forget her."

I'm shaking again, and his hand rubs my back. "You could never forget her Katniss, even if you wanted to!"

"You forgot me," I whisper, and I instantly regret it. How could I say something like that? Immediately, his arms stiffen around me and his methodical hands freeze against my shoulders. I kiss the side of his neck and pull away, grabbing his hands and holding them between us.

His eyes are squeezed shut and I want to kick myself in the shins.

"Peeta, I am so sorry. I didn't mean that," I say to him, hoping I can call him back from whatever veil of darkness the Capitol has him under now.

"Peeta, listen to me. You didn't forget me. They took you from me, just for a little while," I whisper. I can't bear what I've done to him just now, but if I am to be Mrs. Mellark, I am going to have to learn to save my husband, even from myself.

"You didn't forget me. You didn't." He opens his eyes and speaks. "And you won't forget Prim." I nod, simply happy he's back with me. Given just a moment, his words begin to sink in. I won't forget Prim. I can't. But I already have started to. I think very hard.

Medicine. Medicine and goats. And sugar. That's what Prim smelled like. Excited to have remembered, I run to grab a paper and pencil. I furiously scribble it down, ensuring I will never forget again. I hand the paper to Peeta.

"Can you read what that says?"

He glances down and squints. "Umm…mediocre gates? And the word sugar?" I sigh.

Writing more slowly, I rewrite the words that were my sisters' scent. He laughs when he realizes what he'd misunderstood. "Definitely not mediocre gates," he chuckles. Feeling accomplished, I smile back at him. I feel my face fall when I think back to what I had said to Peeta.

"Katniss, it's ok. I know. I know I did."

I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. "No you didn't." He opens his mouth, to protest I'm sure, but I silence him with another kiss. When I'm back in his arms again, I start to think of the woods, and the primroses, and the moon and I am reminded of another night. A night in the arena.

I am in a tree. Across the way, branches rustle as a little girl peeks her head out. Rue. She whistles her tune and she smiles at me and trusts me and teaches me other means of survival. Rue. Dead in my arms.  
>I blink back tears. I am in my home again. I whistle Rue's tune. Peeta looks down at me. "I don't want to forget any of them Peeta. Rue, Boggs, Cinna, Portia, Lavinia, Darius, Finnick,…Prim. My father. My mother. Annie. Not even Gale. I don't want to forget."<p>

I have an idea. I pick up the paper with the ingredients to Prim's smell and I show it to Peeta.

"What if we did this for all of them?"

He furrows his brow. "You mean a page for them all?"

I shrug. "One page; a few pages. However many we want. We could make a book. A book of our best memories. Little by little, everything we don't want to forget." I opt not to say 'everything we don't want to _risk_forgetting' because I know my mind and Peeta's can only take so much. If we overload it with memories all at once, one of us is guaranteed to have an episode, if not both. That was one of my biggest fears. If Peeta's flashbacks take him, and then my nightmares haunt me at the same time, who will be left to save the other? It is in this moment I realize. I cannot afford to be so fragile; I cannot risk breaking every time I am reminded, or even not reminded, of something sad. I can't because then I risk leaving Peeta alone to his own nightmares.

For better or worse, I would be with Peeta. I can't leave him alone just because I can't remember Prim's smell.  
>Which reminds me of something.<p>

"How did you find me in the woods Peeta?" I know for a fact he can't find his way in the woods; he'd tried once and it took me forever to find him.

His fingers trace circles on the back of my hand. "It was getting way too late. Once the sun set, I decided I'd waited long enough. I didn't want it to get too dark because I know I'm really bad during the daylight; I can only imagine how terrible of a hunter I am at night. So I went through the fence to find you. Then I heard you scream and I followed the sounds."

His hands tighten around my waist. "I'm sorry it took me so long Katniss."

I shake my head. "Don't apologize. It's my own fault for going out so far." I kiss his shoulder and lean against it.

"Thank you for coming to look for me."

He pulls away from me so that he is now looking into my eyes. His beautiful blue eyes.

"I will always come for you Katniss."

Trembling under his gaze, I can only nod, unable to get any words out. Soon, he is carrying me into our room, tucking me in under the sheets all the way up to my chin. I hadn't really realized I was still cold. Taking his place beside me, I ruin his efforts of keeping me warm and roll over into his side. I curl up into the fetal position, taking his hand in mine and lacing my fingers with his. "I love you Peeta." He kisses the top of my head. "I love you Katniss."

We talk a little more about the book. I keep getting more and more excited by the idea. Finally, Peeta gets up off the bed and comes back with an empty journal. Grabbing his paint and my pencil, he asks me where I want to begin. I start by taping the paper with Prim's smell onto the first page.

* * *

><p>A few more months pass by and suddenly, I'm cutting two slices of bread to toast. A small gathering of the remainder of friends and family we have pile into the Victor's Village. I peek out from my window, wearing a simple dress in my closet left from one of my many interviews and parties. My hair is loose; a braid just didn't seem elegant enough for the occasion. I watch the faces of those I held dear to my heart, but not close to it. My mother; her first time in nearly a year setting foot in District 12. She's twiddling her fingers, trying her hardest to not make eye contact with the house our family once lived in, a house now home to Peeta and I. I haven't seen her in so long; I feel bitter. Annie Oddair, her little baby asleep on her shoulder; I watch her smile, and close her eyes for just a second. What memory haunts her now? How is she coping without Finnick to call her back from her nightmares? I see Effie, trying her best to be the most pleasant; she even has changed. No longer wearing a bright wig, her red hair is down, cropped to her shoulders.<p>

And then I notice Haymitch. He's wearing his best clothes; his hair is combed. His eyes are completely clear, not a trace of alcohol. I am stunned into silence. He sobered up for mine and Peeta's wedding. And this is the sight that sets me over the edge. The tears begin to fall, and I wonder how on earth I am going to hold up during the vow exchanges.

We've decided to have a wedding similar to the only one we have any knowledge of outside of our own District. With our loved ones observing, we will exchange our words of promises and devotion to each other. And this act has me feeling completely nauseous. As I go over what I have planned in my head, it only reassures me how awful I really am with words. Nothing I can think of to say sounds even remotely good enough for Peeta. I wouldn't say it to a rock, let alone the man I am about to marry.

I think of the one face I don't see in the crowd. Gale had responded to the invitation, saying he just wouldn't be able to attend. He wouldn't be able to face me is what he really meant. Coward.

But this day is not about Gale. Not in the least. I see the man it is about waiting for me. The small mass of people has begun to settle into their seats and I know this is it. The absolute point of no return. I begin my descent down the aisle, head held high, eyes locked on the only person who still matters to me. The only person I still matter to.

He smiles at me, and I don't even try to resist the urge to smile back. I feel silly, stupid even, but I still smile. When I reach him finally, I feel like I've reached the end. But not in a morbid sort of way. Just, the end of all the bad. Peeta is my balance to all of the evil the Capitol has created; all of the evil my life has been consumed with for so long. Finally, I have reached the end of nothing but dark days and black as pitch nights. I have my spring dandelion, my baker, my painter, my best friend. I have it all. It isn't until I hear Peeta whisper "I love you," that I realize I've said these things out loud. I have said my vows without even realizing it. How did that even happen? I put my thoughts to bed when Peeta starts in on his.

"For so long I feel I've loved you Katniss. I really feel like its been forever. But it hasn't been, has it? Most of forever though. My forever's didn't start until that day in school Katniss. You are my first and last forever; you always have been, even when I may not have known it. Even when I'm stuck behind a curtain of uncertainty, I want you to remember; no, I _need _you to remember, it is always you. It will always be you. I love you so much."  
>I don't really know what's expected of us after we've spilt our guts out in front of everyone so I do what comes natural to me. I embrace Peeta and kiss him with as much passion as I can muster up while under the scrutiny of my mother and company. It must have been some passion, because Peeta is kissing me back, fiercely. I hear someone cough incredibly loudly, and I know, I just <em>know <em>it was Haymitch. A million curse words come to mind, but he sobered up for this, so I'll let it slide.

Peeta's hand slips into mine, and he raises our hands above our heads and the audience breaks into applause. Soon, everyone is hugging the two of us, and I try not to lose my boy with the bread in the crowd but I fail. When his hand is yanked from mine, I close my eyes, the beginning of a panic attack starting. There are too many people around me; I can hardly breathe. And just like that, his hand is back where it belongs, in my own, holding me still. My breathing steadies, my heart begins to slow and normalize; I am ok.

"Katniss?" I'm looking into the eyes of my mother. I don't know whether to hug her or hate her. She left me alone. She disappeared. She left me completely damaged, broken, and all alone. That had always been the difference between the two of us though. When I wanted nothing more to give up, I always found something to keep fighting for. She would just give up. She gave me up. We could have helped each other, couldn't we? We were both going insane for the same reasons; we could have been each others support, right? No. She would have wanted to crawl into a ball and fade away and I would have joined her. I haven't been much of a fighter since Prim died. Not until Peeta came back at least.

"Mom." She pulls me into a hug, collapsing us both to our knees. "I'm so sorry. I am so sorry my baby girl. Please, please forgive me." Unable to think of a response, I just wrap my arms around her while she cries. This is not how I expected this day to go. When Peeta kneels beside us, mom finally looks up from my shoulder and wipes her eyes. "Hello, Peeta," she whispers. She seems guarded now, a little unsure. I do not like this look she's giving him. I make it a point to kiss his cheek at that moment. Peeta is perfectly ok. She has no reason to doubt him.

Awkwardly standing up, trying not flash anyone while in my dress, I help my mother stand as well. She's shaking a little still, but I think for the most part she'll make it through this evening unscathed. I wonder if I should show her the book Peeta and I have started. So far, we have added details about Prim and Rue and Peeta's family. We've started to work on a section for Finnick. I wonder if my mother is too fragile. I watch her shudder when she glances in Peeta's direction. No. She couldn't handle it. I begin to walk away from her, leaving her with Annie.

A few more mindless smiles and hugs later, someone approaches me and I feel the smile on my face falter. "I knew you could do it, sweetheart," says Haymitch. I am truly rendered speechless by the tears in his eyes. He clumsily enfolds me into a hug and he's whispering to me again. "You deserved this you know. No matter what I've said, you've always deserved to be happy Katniss."

Huh. I deserved this? Coming from Haymitch that was a miracle in its own; never mind a wedding of the likes District 12 has never seen before. Never mind the complete amount of unstable people all in one space. Setting all of these things aside, the true miracle is Haymitch standing in front of me, sober and crying because I can finally be happy. Haymitch backs up, clears his throat and just nods in my direction.

"Thank you, Haymitch. For everything," my voice cracks a little at the end. "We love you." He doesn't say anything. He simply smiles and looks away, but I know he meant it back. He said it with his eyes.

As the sun sets on this day and the moon rises, Peeta and Haymitch start a small bonfire and now its time. The true wedding we've been waiting for. Our papers are already signed, already we are legally married. But no, not in our hearts. Not until we toast this bread.

Sliding the bread onto sticks, we grab each others hands and each toast our own slice. When I see my bread begin to brown I am relieved. Now, now I can finally call myself Mrs. Mellark. Now, I am exactly who I want to always be. This is where I always want to be. Sane, smiling, safe and sound. We both pull our bread out of the fire at the same time and look into each others eyes. We do not hug. We do not kiss. We simply stare. And I smile.

**Author's Note: **Ok, so just like Katniss, I am rendered absolutely completely speechless by the attention this fic has gotten! I have never felt so loved before! Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story and I love each and everyone of you! I am obsessed with begin a part of this fandom, and it really is so cool to be included with you all. Chapter four is in the works if you guys feel like reading anymore of my terrible writing.

I literally have a huge smile on my face for every review I read. You should hear me. I call my best friend all the time and tell her when I got another review; it makes me so happy! Thanks again!


	4. Planned but Unexpected

I stare at the little test in my hand. There's absolutely no way. We've only tried once since I agreed to this guaranteed catastrophe. Surely that wasn't enough to already have this be happening? Once? One time without any kind of protection and I'm carrying a thing inside of me? Unbelievable. I only half realize I'm picking up a glass vase and carelessly throwing it against the wall. The moment Peeta bursts onto the scene is when I fully realize what I've done.

I have taken one of our possessions, which I'm sure was a wedding gift at one point in time, and just shattered it into a billion irreparable pieces. Surely a sign of things to come. Peeta eyes me warily, no doubt wondering what heinous memory has set me off this time. Oh, if he only knew. Wordlessly, I put the pregnancy test onto the counter and storm out the door. I haven't the slightest clue as to where I'm going, but I know there's no stopping me until I get there.

I can only imagine Peeta, his entire being just lighting up at the tiny little plus sign just lying on the counter. That little plus sign that means very different things to the two of us. Peeta sees us; the two of us combined into one little person, one innocent undamaged baby. He sees our future; he sees what every new father must surely see. And then here I am. The dark storm cloud, pelting the horizon with all of my damaging thoughts. I see a tiny person, one innocent undamaged baby, just waiting for me to screw up. I've already done so many things wrong in my lifetime, and now life is presenting me with another golden opportunity to ruin it all. A tiny undamaged baby; would it die also?

I think back to my last tiny undamaged baby. Dead for 15 years now. Gone. She was so small; so young. And I had taken away the whole rest of her life. Just a baby. Gone. Surely this would happen again? I am a monster, only able to repeat past mistakes.

I look at the door in front of me. A door to a home long left alone; a door into a world I haven't visited in over a decade. My old house in the Seam. Our old house; mine, mothers…and Prims. I reach for the door handle and twist. Right away I am greeted by such horrendous pain I am hardly able to stand, hardly able to breathe. Nothing has changed. The few pieces of furniture we left behind when we moved to the Victor's Village remains exactly where it was left. I see a tiny little girl standing in the corner, her shirt untucked, her eyes bright with a smile to accompany her joy. I blink, and she's gone. I glance to the corner; I see a woman hunched over, her arms tight around her body, shut out to the rest of the world. Suddenly she stands; she tries. I blink once again, and the vision disappears. So long ago. Memories I had suppressed; memories that were too sad to remember. Now, all I can think of is how I'd like to write them down in me and Peeta's memory book. It's been almost a year since either of us has thought to add anything.

I remember my father holding a baby Prim. My eyes fill with tears. I can't do this. I cannot be a mother. The only example I have to lead by is off in District 4. Oh, she stops by occasionally. Last time I saw her was three years ago; Greasy Sae's funeral. 3 years ago. For a funeral. That is my mother. She asks, no, _begs_for my forgiveness on my wedding day, and then makes rare appearances for the next 15 years. I can't be a mother. I can't be her.

How can I? I'll leave my child; somehow for some moment my child will be motherless. If I have a nightmare I can't wake up from. It's happened a few times; Peeta literally had to pick me up and put me in the bathtub to tear me away from the demons in my mind. Or what if I have to save Peeta from a deranged flashback? The things I have to do to keep him with me are not suitable for a child's eyes. Our entire lives are not suitable for a child's life!

It still, over a decade later smells of ash and pain. Sure, pain may not have a legitimate scent, but if it did, if you could bottle up the smell of misery, the Everdeen's house in the Seam would be the place to go. Small piles of ashes have collected over the years. Paw prints can be found in some of them. I think back to Buttercup, who died not too long after I found him here. Are these his prints? Or has some other animal been roaming the remains of a life long ago left alone. Neither of those options brings me any comfort. Poor Buttercup. If they are his, it's just too sad. His little feet wandering around his old home, looking for some source of normalcy, something from his life of comfort he missed. His tiny marks, permanently apart of this black hole of a home.

If they are not his, it means my neglect of my previous home has finally gone to the extreme. Wild creatures might possibly be lurking behind every corner of this fading structure. I have tried so hard to forget this place; I am no better than my mother.

"Katniss."

I am not surprised he has found me. "You got your wish Peeta."

I hear him suck in a breath behind me. "At the cost of what? You're breaking things; walking out without giving me any answers. You said you wanted this Katniss."

"I didn't think it would happen this soon. I didn't think."

Peeta walks away from behind me so that he can talk to me, face to face. Oh no. Peeta and his words. He has a way of making me think of things I normally would not.

"Katniss. You said that you wanted this. I never ever would have tried with you if I knew you were lying. Why would you lie to me about something like this? This isn't some trivial thing Katniss! This is our child!"

I hold my head high. I will not break this time. I know that I am right. I feel it in my everything. I am right. I am hysterically crying as well.

"I didn't lie! But I didn't think Peeta. Do you know what kind of monstrous mother I will be?"

He reaches for me, likely trying to hug the fear out of me, but his arms can't save me this time. This time, I am alone. I am alone in thinking these things. I am alone in wishing this thing inside me didn't exist. We were doing so well! Of course we have our bad days, but it was just the two of us. We could call each other back from anything. But with a child? We will be limited. There are methods we can't use anymore; effective methods. This child was created by using that effective method.

Already, I am wishing I was without child! How could these thoughts not have crossed my mind before I agreed to this! I take one look at Peeta's heartbroken face and I remember. I have had every one of these thoughts.

I am not good enough.

We cannot do this.

I can't do this.

Peeta could do this.

Peeta will do this. I don't have a choice anymore. I will do this. Together. It's all too much and the room is spinning. I feel nauseous. I go to sit on the floor and immediately Peeta is there, trying to protect me. Trying to protect us. He lifts me up and I lay against him. "I'm pregnant," I whisper. "I know."

* * *

><p>I have good days and bad days. Right now, it's in between. I really wouldn't mind crawling into our bed and wallowing in my own misery, but I feel like I shouldn't do that. If I can feel that much, then it's an in between day. I drag myself out of the bedroom, throwing one of Peeta's shirts on in the process. According to the doctor, I'm now four months pregnant. Four months. I'm starting to show a little. I try to cover it up. I know eventually there will be no hiding this, but for now, pretending is the only thing I have left. I pretend I'm not getting more and more pregnant by the day. I pretend I am still happy. I pretend I am not slowly killing Peeta. Pretending is the best I can do.<p>

When I come downstairs Peeta is waiting for me at the table. He's just sullenly sitting there, watching me. I grab a glass and fill it with milk. Reluctantly, I take a vitamin sent by my mother. Oh, she was elated over the news. I hadn't wanted to tell her, but Peeta made me. No one else knew; not even Haymitch. Mother had sent me over a blue blanket she made, along with the vitamins and a note telling me how much she loved me.

A note. She sent me a note. Her last child on this earth, pregnant, and she sends a note. I had tossed it into the fire after I read it. Peeta had just stared at me, just like he's doing now. His constant stares make me feel terrible. I remember when he used to stare at me out of lust, out of love, out of happiness. Now he just looks afraid. He's waiting for me to snap, to do something dangerous that will hurt the baby. He's waiting for me to intentionally ruin this all. I don't blame him one bit. I am a ticking bomb, waiting to explode and destroy everything I love.

Quickly, I swallow the vitamin. "I'm ok today," I whisper. Peeta shifts uncomfortably in his chair. It's then that I notice he has his fists clenched at his sides. "Katniss. This is not you being ok. This is you, barely living. This is the Katniss I came home to years ago. This is you mourning again, only this time you're mourning life." With that, he gets up and walks away from me. I'm left alone in the kitchen, somberly watching the chair he previously sat in. He's right, of course he's right. But I am too. I am not to fit to be a mother.

I hear the front door slam close, making me jump. I will not cry. Besides, I've cried so much these past few months I don't think I have any tears left in me. I feel my eyes get watery and I instantly realize I was wrong. How many tears can eyes produce? Evidently a never-ending supply. Frustrated, I get to my feet, effectively pushing my chair backwards and tipping it over onto the floor. I don't even care. I can't keep doing this!

I love Peeta. I love him so much; more than anything. More than this child. I can't keep hurting him this way. It's killing him, and its killing me. I've been pretending this pregnancy doesn't exist, but maybe what I should be doing is pretending this pregnancy makes me happy. That's exactly what I should be doing. I've faked happiness before, I can do it again. And the first thing I am going to do is tell Haymitch. I pick up the chair, and push it underneath the table where it belongs. Taking a deep breath, I realize I feel a little better. With a goal in mind, I have something to get me through the days. I have a way to make Peeta happy again.

I start walking up the stairs, going to change when I hear the front door open again. It had been maybe five minutes since Peeta had left and already he was back. "Katniss, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked out like that." Before I can deny his apology, tell him how happy he makes me, he's already noticed my tear streaked face. "I made you cry? I am so sorry! I know how…unhappy you are, I shouldn't add to your burden."

"Peeta, I'm fine. Really. I am. I was actually thinking…I want to tell people. About the baby." I try not to choke on my own words. "I want to tell Haymitch first though." I muster up the most genuine smile I can manage. He just stares at me; that same stare from earlier, his eyes holding none of the joy I had thought my pretending would bring forth.  
>Instead they darken. "Katniss, don't lie for me."<p>

"Peeta I-." He holds up a hand. "No Katniss. There is nothing you can say. I do not want you lying for me under any circumstances. If this pregnancy makes you miserable, if it depresses you all over again, fine. But don't pretend. Don't make it something it isn't!"

He looks so heartbroken and right here, in this moment, I wish I could take it back. Everything I've said or done to hurt this boy, no, this man that I love. I place my fingers over my stomach, wondering when I'll feel the baby move. I don't try to defend my lie; to make it into a truth. Peeta knows me far too well for that. Still… "I want to tell Haymitch." He looks away and nods his head. "I'll come with you." I shake mine. "No. I want to go alone." Peeta just nods again. Not even bothering to freshen up, to erase the tear evidence from my face, I walk out the door and stumble my way into Haymitch's house. I burst through his door; he is sitting at his own table, pouring what I assume is goose food into a bowl. I notice his clear eyes and see once again he is sober. He very rarely is ever visibly drunk anymore. At least not during this season when his geese appear. Once they fly away, he takes up the bottle again.

"Haymitch, I'm pregnant." Immediately, he drops the food, scattering it around the table and onto the floor. It's almost comical really, the way his eyes widen and his jaw drops. "I'm four months along now." He lets all of his breath out in a woosh. "I can't say I saw it coming. I thought you didn't…"

"I didn't. I mean I don't. I thought I did, but I changed my mind."

He snickers. "I think it's a little late for that sweetheart."

I am about to say something snarky in response but before I can I feel something. Something I had not felt before. I feel my baby kick. And then I feel it kick again. I gasp and immediately Haymitch is at my side. My fingers drop to my stomach and I am in complete shock. There's a baby inside me, kicking. I grab Haymitch's hand and tug it onto my stomach. "Do you feel that?" He grumbles something but I don't care what he said. I am still mesmerized by what is happening in my stomach. I think of Peeta and how he should be here experiencing this with me. I hear Haymitch clear his throat and I can only imagine how uncomfortable he must be. I pat his hand and he moves it away. I keep my other hand across my belly though. I turn to leave but before I do I need to tell Haymitch something. "I want the baby to call you Grandpa, if you don't mind. I never had one; neither did Peeta. It would be nice to start a new tradition."

"I don't mind," he whispers. I smile and continue my way back to Peeta. _Don't stop kicking _I think. I want Peeta to feel this. I bang open our front door, a huge smile plastered on my face. "The baby kicked!" His eyes brighten and for the first time in months Peeta smiles. The last thing I see before I lose consciousness is that big smile turn into a look of horror.

* * *

><p>It's very bright; too bright. I try to open my eyes, but when I do I have to immediately close them. The way I'm reacting to the light makes me wonder how long I have been asleep. I try again, and this time through several blinks, I am able to keep my eyes open. Instantly I bolt up. I do not recognize where I am. My breathing comes rapidly and I start to open my mouth to scream when I feel something warm in my hand. I look over and I see Peeta asleep next to me, his hand in mine and I am taken back to a morning when I woke up similarly to this one. His hand in mine, holding me through my nightmares. Even now, after all of the misery I have put him through since I found out I was pregnant, he still holds onto me through the night. I brush back the hair over his forehead and he blinks open his eyes.<p>

"You're awake! I was so worried Katniss," he says, leaning forward to kiss the top of my head. "You scared me," he whispers. Unsure of what to say, I tug on his arm until he takes the hint and crawls into the bed with me. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face into his chest. "What happened Peeta? Is the baby ok? Is it?"

His arms wind around me. "The Doctor says you aren't healthy. He said that you aren't taking care of yourself; that taking the vitamins isn't enough. You have to be mentally healthy. He says…he says to him it seems you've lost the will to carry on. But the baby is ok. You passed out from stress induced exhaustion."

I hear so much hurt in his voice, so much sadness that I am instantaneously filled with shame.

"Katniss I know you think you can't do this. I know you think that you can't be a good mom."

I shake my head. "It isn't something that I think, Peeta; it's something that I know. I feel it with everything that I am. I just _know_that I will not be able to do this!"

"You're wrong Katniss. Just because you have a lousy excuse for a mother doesn't mean you're going to repeat her mistakes. Look at me; am I anything like my mother?" Feeling like a child myself, I shake my head no. "Right. But am I like my father?" I think about it and nod. His father was kind. He wasn't as strong as Peeta, but he had a sincerity about him that I see in Peeta. "And you're like your father. From what you've told me, he was always there for you and your sister and mother. That's the kind of parent you will be Katniss. Don't look at the mother you have, look at the father you had. Don't look at how it could be, but make it something it will be. I know, I just know it; you will be a fantastic mother Katniss." I sniffle.

He looks down at me and smiles. "You are going to love this baby. It is going to love you. You already have proven just how wonderful of a mother you are. You need to remember that you practically raised Prim. That was you. She was an amazing little girl because of you." I take my fingers and lay them gently across my stomach for the millionth time today.

"Prim had my mother. She and my mother connected in a way I never could."

Peeta was already shaking his head before I finished. "Prim didn't learn to love unconditionally from your mother. That was something she learned from you. You don't even realize it Katniss, but you love so hard and so strong that your love can break you." With his arms still around me, Peeta pulls me into his chest and I breathe him in. There he goes with his words again. I feel I'm starting to see things his way. I grip onto my thoughts like they are a lifeline. I have to be strong, don't I? I, Katniss Mellark, was not born to be a mother, right? "That unconditional love you hold onto so strongly, that will you have to not lose everything under any circumstance, _that_is something only you can teach our child. Only you can teach our child how to live so passionately."

I resist the urge to snicker. Me? A passionate person? Sometimes I think Peeta puts me on too high of a pedestal. He sensed my disbelief because he kept talking. "You are passionate Katniss. In ways you don't even realize. You aren't emotionless. You feel. You feel things in a way hardly anyone can." He's whispering now, tickling the back of neck with his warm breath. I lean into him and shudder. "But what if I can't?"

His fingers brush a tear running down my face. "If you ever feel like you can't, just remember I'm here. I'm your fallback. I will never leave you Katniss. I might take a trip away every now and then, mentally speaking, but I will always come back to you. Always. I will always come back to _both _of you."

* * *

><p>The Doctor agrees to let me go home under the promise to take care of myself. When I walk through the front door of our house I am struck with a thought. When I felt the baby for the first time, when I felt that little foot kick me, that tiny somewhat planned but oh so unexpected foot, I cared. I cared about the thing inside me. I did. And when I started to fall, when I began to black out, when I was faced with the possibility of losing my baby, I cracked a little. I broke free, just for a moment, of my extreme dislike to this change in our lives. And now I can't shake away that change of heart. Everyday I feel it a little more and more. I noticed it when I started singing to the baby. I did it without even realizing, but I did it. I sing every morning.<br>_  
>"Deep in the meadow…under the willow…." <em>Everyday. Every morning. This song that means so many different things, to so many different people because of a publicized tragedy and yet has only ever meant one thing to me: I love you. My parents sang it to me. I sang it to Prim. I sang it Rue. And now I will sing it to my child.

* * *

><p>I'm pretty far along now. In fact, any day now our house will be home to not two Mellarks, but three. I'm terrified every morning again. I haven't sang to the baby in at least a month. This time, the Doctor isn't concerned. He says I'm healthier than I was. I suppose I did start taking better care of myself. With a little force from Peeta that is.<p>

I sit on the edge of the bed, holding my swollen stomach and silently will the baby to come out. Right now. I just really want this baby out of me. I can't take it anymore! I can hardly walk, hardly breathe, hardly exist! "Please baby. Please. I could really use the extra weight off of me. Please do this for me. Do this for your momma." I hear Peeta chuckle and I look up, fully aware of how crazy I must look.

"I love you."

Maybe I'm not so crazy. "I love you too." My water breaks.

**Author's Note: **Alright alright. I realllllllly feel like I went off on a tangent this time. If Katniss is ooc I have no one to blame but myself. In my defense though, she is 15 years older. And yes, with this ending there will be a guranteed chapter 5. As far as any after that, I'm not sure. So you'll just have to wait and see (as will I). And I LOATHE time jumps, but I felt like I had too. I don't have the patience/talent to span our their lives for the next fifteen years. I APOLOGIZE FOR THIS CHAPTER.

But thank you all for the love and support! I'm so glad you like it!


	5. The Flower That Cannot Die

I change my mind. I want the baby to stay inside me, safe and sound. If it stays inside me, it will be just fine. It will be safe, warm, cared for. If it comes out here, into the real world, who knows what kind of turmoil it will have to face.

Only one reason comes to my mind as to why this baby should come out of my stomach: I hate referring to it as an "it." I'd really like to know the sex of my baby; that's the only reason I can think of. Other than that, it can stay in my womb forever. All that flies out the window though as another contraction makes me want to rip my hair out.

I grip Peeta's hand I can feel him wince. "I really want the baby out," I whisper. I will not lose my control. I cannot get angry. I cannot risk losing Peeta to my pregnant personality. As difficult as it is, I suppress the hateful words I'd like to throw at him as yet _another_ contraction tears through me. I try my best to loosen my grip, not wanting to send Peeta into a tracker jacker frenzy. It's just that sort of thing that could send him spiraling away from me. And I need him right next to me right now. The Doctor keeps telling me to push and push and push and PUSH until finally, _finally_, I hear a cry.

It is not the sound of someone having night terrors, or the cry of someone facing horrible memories alone. It is not the echo of a daily battle, fighting to remember what is real and what is not. It is not the shriek of someone losing their mind. No. It is not any of these things.

"Katniss, it's a girl."

It is the sound of my daughter, breathing, alive, wailing. Perfect. I smile and rest back against the pillow. My daughter. "Can I see her?" I can hear him stepping closer and all of a sudden I am shy and nervous. He places the little bundle of baby in my arms and I can hardly breathe. Right away I am counting. She has two eyes. Two ears. Two nostrils on her single tiny nose. Ten baby fingers and ten baby toes. She has such dark hair and it covers her small scalp. I am overwhelmed and humbled. "Hi baby. It's me," I say through my tears. I look away from her and look into Peeta's eyes. His expression reflects my own: awe. I just have to kiss him. I move my head forward and he is already there, his lips tangling with mine. I pull him into the bed with us; my family. My husband. My daughter. And me.

Peeta wraps his arms around me and leans forward to kiss our child's head. "Thank you Katniss. I love you so much," he chokes out. I kiss his cheek. I do not have the words to describe how I am feeling. But for the moment, I feel flawless.

* * *

><p>The windows rattle and Amy begins to shriek. I carefully set her down and run after Peeta. Screaming towards Haymitch who is standing outside, I tell him to go inside with the baby. Without a second thought, he is inside my house and I am gone. Amy is six months old. Peeta has not had an episode within those six months, but that all came to an end about five minutes ago.<p>

Amy is actually her nickname. Her full name is Amaranth, after a flower. The flower that lives forever. The flower that cannot die. It was Peeta's idea.

He had been making breakfast for the two of us while I fed Amy. Everything was calm. He turned back and looked at me and he smiled so big I thought I would burst. I heard the buzzing sound a moment before he did. I watched, stunned into silence as a wasp landed on his hand. With Amy in my arms still, I lurched forward, ready to swat the creature away, but I was a second too late. Enraged, Peeta flung the bug off of him, his eyes dilating. The wasp lay on the floor, its stinger gone, surely embedded into Peeta's hand. Before anything could be done, he was out the door and I am now chasing after him. This was sure to be a disaster.

"Peeta," I screamed. "Peeta answer me!" Silence. Silence terrified me more than Peeta having a flashback. "Peeta please!" Silence threatened to strangle me. I keep running. I haven't the slightest clue as to where I am going. I just know that the longer it takes me to find Peeta, the longer amount of time he is all alone. A lonely Peeta is more dangerous to me than anything in the world. All of a sudden I see him, sitting on his knees, fists at his sides, tears down his cheeks. He looks broken. He looks irreparable. He is alone.

I cover my mouth with both of my hands to stifle my own cries. My Peeta. I notice his hand has started to swell from the sting. This where I start first. I kneel next to him and take hold of his damaged hand. Even when he pulls away, when he literally tries to push my hand off, I hold his palm in my own. "Leave, now. Katniss you need to go." I stare down at his hand. They have always been a source of fascination to me. They can paint the most beautiful pictures, create the most delicious foods, touch me in ways only Peeta could. They can also kill. They can hurt. They can break. Especially me. Especially now.

"Never." His hand tightens around mine, to the point of pain. This is not my Peeta. But he is always _my _Peeta. I keep quiet; I don't even flinch when his grip strengthens even more. All at once, he tears away from me, stomping towards the woods. "Don't follow me Katniss."

I'm torn by the sincerity in his words, and by my need to never leave him. I wonder if he will say the words. I hope against all odds he will. But when have the odds ever been in my favor? He doesn't say a thing. Should I say it? Will it break him even more? Or could it possibly save him from whatever darkness is clouding his mind. I don't know what to do. Am I selfish for asking? Or am I selfish for not? As always my mouth speaks the words my mind won't allow me to.

"Stay with me." He shakes his head. "I can't"

Instantly I feel the blackness clawing at my mind. In fifteen years I have never felt this alone. He can't stay with me. He can't. Not this time. I know something in him has broken because Peeta would never leave me. Something has broken, and I can't fix it. I've never not been able to save Peeta. I can't save him. He can't save me. It isn't until the scenery around me starts to shake that I realize I'm on the floor. It isn't an earthquake. It's Peeta, shaking my shoulders. I blink rapidly and force myself to look into his eyes.

"Katniss! I'm here. I am. I'm here."

"You said you can't," I whisper. I sound like a child. The Mockingjay is sitting on the dirty ground outside, hyperventilating while her child is in the hands of a known drunk, because her husband was gone. All at once I realize I have become exactly what I said I never would be. A wife. A mother. A woman. I have become the very same things I hated about my own mother. Weak. I have weaknesses.  
><em><br>There's no one left I love. _Those had been Johanna Mason's words to me in District 13 all of those years ago. No one left to love. I have everyone left that I love. I am at more risk than I have ever been. If Peeta having a flashback he can't come back from is enough to send me into the oblivion, what would the loss of Amy do? Why did I do this? Why did I get involved? Why have I become emotionally attached to anything, let alone my husband and daughter. How could I let this happen?

I shrug out of Peeta's grasp on my shoulders. "You want to leave Peeta? Go ahead. I won't stop you."

I get to my feet, trying the best I can to remain strong and emotionless. I can't seem to stop shaking though.

"Don't you understand Katniss? All it took was a wasp to send me right back to that place. It hasn't been that bad since before I came back home! Can you imagine if I had hurt you? Or if I had hurt you while you were holding Amy?"

I'm so angry. I'm angry at myself for caring. I still can't understand how I let it happen. I had been so set in my ways. I will not get married. I will never have children. I have broken my only rules. And what scares me the most is I can't bring myself to regret it. Not at all. How did I lose myself?

"Peeta I can't always do this with you! I can't let it be about the what-ifs! I did that for so long and I can't go back to that. We have Amy. We can't live in the past anymore. Do you realize that ever since that last time in the Capitol, you haven't hurt me? Not even close! I know that it's always there for you. I know that, but as long as you are strong enough to not make it a reality, then I know I'm safe. I haven't felt more safe than what I feel when I'm with you."

I forgot. I didn't lose myself. I found Peeta. I found me.

"The only thing you could do to ever hurt me, or make me fear you, would be to leave. It isn't just me you're storming off from anymore either. It's Amy."

He steps closer to me. "She needs you too Peeta." I'm in his arms. "I need you." His lips crash against mine. I pull back to take a breath when Peeta takes this as an opportunity to start talking.

"You looked like you were about to disappear."

I put my hand on his cheek, making sure he knows I'm here. "I know sometimes you have to leave us, but don't stay away. You can't stay away. No matter what you have to be here. Even if it means I chase you across all of Panem, I won't stay away from you and you can't stay away from me." He starts to protest but I run my fingers across his back. He's told me in the past he likes my cold fingers against his skin.

"No. You have to stay." He sucks in a breath. I kiss his ear. "You have to." I run my hands down his arms until they are in his hands. I gently run my fingers over the spot he was stung in. "Let's get you home," I say. He nods, staring at my lips. I lean forward and kiss him quickly. As much as I'd like to continue, his hand has turned a nasty shade of red.

* * *

><p>After that day, Haymitch made sure someone sprayed insect killer around our house constantly. Even now he looks after us. After nearly two decades later, Haymitch tries to protect us. Lately he has been looking more and more aged, more haggard by the day. I'm terrified for his health. He may think I don't notice, but I do. I also have seen the empty bottles. Two months have passed since Peeta's flashback, and I know Haymitch has been drinking again. Never enough to pass out or be incoherent. But enough to make me worried for him. I know too much liquor can kill a person. I can't help but wonder if he has reached his limit.<p>

It's a Saturday morning and Amy is still asleep. I stretch my arm out to my left, making contact with Peeta's waist. I roll over and wrap my arms around him. He stirs in my embrace. "Morning sleepyhead," I whisper. He turns over to look at me and smiles. "Morning beautiful." As is our morning routine I look at him and say, "No nightmares?" He nods. "No nightmares." It's been a week since either of us woke up screaming or delirious. Neither of says it, but I know we both wonder how long these peaceful nights and mornings will last. Peeta kisses me chastely but just as our kisses deepen, I hear Amy in her crib. Peeta groans and rolls over. "She has a knack for waking up every time you and I look at each other."

I laugh at poke him in the ribs. "You wanted kids remember?" He pretends to ponder this. "Oh that's right, I did." We both get up and walk together hand in hand into Amy's room. I lift her in my arms and am tickled when she smiles at both Peeta and myself. "I love you baby girl," I say kissing her on her head. She giggles as Peeta whisks her away into the air. "What about me? Doesn't daddy get any love?" I laugh and rest my head against Peeta's shoulder.

I broke all of my rules. I got everything I could have ever wanted.

**Author's Note: **Shortest chapter yet :( Sorry about two things: The length, and the amount of time it took to get this out. Not to worry though, this semi-happy ending isn't the last chapter. I still have at least two more up my sleeve. Haymitch is about to become very important ;)

LEAVE ME REVIEWS. THEY ARE THE TOAST TO MY WEDDING. THE BREAD TO MY PITA. THE MOCKING TO MY JAY. THE HUNGER TO MY GAMES. Basically I just need your reviews so that I can breathe.


	6. What is Not Normal

It wasn't until Amy started to walk that I felt that familiar panic set in. She looks up at me with her big beautiful blue eyes and just stands up. It's a struggle for her; Peeta and I have been trying to get her to take a step on her own for weeks now. Yet here she is, getting to her feet, pulling one leg forward and then the other. Soon, she is stumbling into my outstretched arms and it all comes crashing down on me. How much time do I have left with my baby?

Peeta's arm snakes around my waist. I know he has to be able to sense my rising fear. His touch does little to soothe me. He reaches down and takes Amy from my arms. I am left bewildered and a little numb. Walking. My bitty baby is walking? It doesn't seem right or fair. How can she be walking already? She's only five minutes old! I hear her giggling away while Peeta twirls her around the room.

"You're getting so big Amy! My baby girl is walking!" I take in the sight in front of me. Peeta is smiling and my daughter, my _daughter_, is laughing. I begin to calm down. She's only walking. It isn't like she's going to school or getting a job. She's just walking. She's walking! Suddenly, I smile so large I feel my face begin to cramp.

"Amy baby you did it!" Peeta hand's her back to me and I adjust her on my hip. "My baby button did it," I say and kiss her nose. She sighs and lays her head against my shoulder. I glance at the clock and realize it's getting close to her nap time. I look back at Peeta and jerk my head towards the door to her room. He follows my look and nods, walking ahead of me and preparing her room for her nap. "I love you baby girl," I whisper as her little eyes flutter closed. "Mama," she whispers back. Her voice is so tiny. Walking and barely talking. She can't be growing up this fast, can she?

Peeta is back in the room. I must have been crying because the next thing I know, his thumb is wiping away at my cheek. "What's wrong Katniss?" He is used to my mood swings. He has had to deal with them for nearly seventeen years now. "She said momma." I am a little surprised to see tears form in his eyes. I choke back a laugh. "You can't cry too! One of us has to stay grounded with her," I giggle out. I hear Amy's soft snores against my shoulder and together we lay her down in her crib. I cover her with her blanket. Still sleeping, she rolls over onto her stomach and kicks one foot out of her blanket. I sigh and grab a sock from her drawer. Covering her foot with the sock, I lean against Peeta.

"She's growing up so fast." I can't shake this dread. It isn't my usual fear either. It's something different. Something more. Something almost like longing. I long for when Amy was so tiny I was afraid I'd break her. I miss having an infant in the house.

Peeta and I walk out of her room. This is part of my routine. After Amy goes down for her nap, I visit Haymitch. Sometimes Peeta comes with me, but today he has a cake he is baking for one of the families in town. Besides, someone has to stay with Amy.

When I knock on Haymitch's door and receive no answer, I walk in anyway. This is normal; Haymitch being too lazy, drunk, or tired to answer the door. What is not normal is the blood I see him coughing up.

* * *

><p>Haymitch has something the doctors are calling liver failure. They say it's due to his excessive drinking. They told me and Peeta he doesn't have much longer unless he can get a transplant. Neither Peeta nor I are a match as donors. I don't know what to do. I can't think of one way to save him. I don't sleep at night anymore. I lay awake, trying to think of a way to keep Haymitch. I won't sleep until I've found him a donor. I have crawled back into my hole of depression.<p>

I have left Peeta basically alone to take care of Amy. I know I am being a bad mother. I know it because I am doing exactly what my mother did before me. I have shut down when my family needs the most. I'm disgusted with myself. This is precisely what I promised myself I wouldn't do. I wouldn't become a shell of a human being. I would not abandon my child, my husband. I have broken my promise once again. I have broken one of my own rules. Why do I bother saying anything anymore? I just do the exact opposite. One tragedy in our lives and I am ready to call it quits. After Greasy Sae died I didn't fall apart this much. One tragedy in fifteen years and I have become empty. There has to be a way out of this mental stupor. I can get past this, can't I? Katniss Mellark. I am Katniss Mellark. I can do anything. Except everything I should be doing. I can't seem to function though. I know what I'm doing, the way I am reacting, is wrong. I know it, but I can't fix me. I can't.

I sit up in bed and drag my knees to my chest. Peeta walks into our room and I glance over at the clock. It's just after 2. Amy must be asleep. Now is the time I would normally go visit Haymitch. I shiver and fight back the tears. I feel the mattress sink a little next to me and I know Peeta is sitting with me.

"He's all we have left Peeta. If we lose him…he's our only family left. They're all gone. All of them. Haymitch was supposed to be there forever. He can't leave us unprotected now!" Peeta reaches over and pulls me into his lap. He brushes the hair from my face and moves his hand up and down my back. "I know," he whispers. I can hear his voice falter, like he's almost suffocating. Peeta.

I have to move past this. I have to. I'm not the only one this is affecting. Peeta loves Haymitch too. He is his family as well. I can't let this be about just me because it isn't about just me. I brush away a tear on Peeta's cheek. He moves his lips to kiss my hand, just as he always has done. "I'm so sorry Peeta. I'm sorry for leaving you again."

He shrugs; though I can see his shoulders shake a little. "I'm here; I am. I just needed time. To adjust. I'm back."

He nods and it's all I can do to not throw myself at him and kiss him senseless. I have left him alone again. I always tell myself I won't do that to him, but I have done it so many countless times. He still waits for me though. After all of these years, his is still my Peeta. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close. It is his turn to cry now. I have to be here for him. He just hugs me back.

"Peeta I'm here now. You don't need to hold it together for me anymore. You let me mourn, and now it's your turn." He shudders against me. I play with the hair at the base of his neck. "Let it out." He pulls back and kisses me. It isn't a soft kiss, and it isn't a kiss that could lead to something more. It's a kiss of pain. He's in so much pain, and he needed me and I wasn't there for him. I realize he is crying when I feel something splash against my face. I pull him closer to me and he cries into my shoulder.

He has been holding this all in for two weeks. Two weeks I have left him to slowly break and shatter all alone. Without a shoulder to cry on. I wipe my own tears from my eyes. I can't afford to cry right now. This is Peeta's moment. My poor Peeta. He's so strong. He holds himself together day in and out, not just for me, but for Amy as well. He held all of this in while I sat by catatonic, buried in the recesses of my dark mind. Peeta is amazing. He was breaking but he hid it so well. But I don't want him to hold it in anymore. He shouldn't ever have had to. I hold him tighter.

"I don't want to lose him Katniss," he says, his hysterics muffled by my shirt. "We can't lose him." I know how he feels. As much as we both want the past and the arena to just be a distant memory, it isn't. And Haymitch is our reminder that it's real, but that we're still alive. We made it past the bombs. And the fires. And the wars. And mutts. And mental incapacitations. Haymitch survived all of it with us. He is the only one left in our small world who knows exactly what we've been through and how much it takes to come out of it still somewhat put together. He is the only family member either of us has left. He was supposed to be the grandfather to Amy that I never had. He's isn't supposed to leave us.

"He's supposed to protect us," whispers Peeta. He sounds like the same sixteen year old he once was all of those years ago. He sounds like me. "We have to protect him now," he continues. He pulls away from and wipes his eyes. My eyes dart to the clock and I realize an hour has passed. An hour of holding Peeta. I could hold him forever. I debate whether or not I should try and take control of this situation we are in. Should I burden Peeta? I can only think of one person who may be of help. My mother. The thought is bitter in my mind. I save it as our last resort.

Peeta is my husband. He will want to take charge.

"What do we do Peeta?" I see it right away. He already has a plan. And apparently being married for as long as we have has allowed our minds to sync. "I can only think of contacting your mother." I wince and sigh. "She really is our only option, isn't she." I don't say it as a question, but rather a statement; because I already know the answer. I reach across Peeta's lap to get the phone, and lightly trail my fingers over his stomach. "I love you," I say to him. I need to hear myself say it to him sometimes; to reassure myself that I do tell him, even though I know I don't say it nearly enough. I'm not the best wife in the world, I know that. But I have to at least try to be. I can't be fragile anymore. I cannot bend or break. I must be firm and strong. I have to be the Mockingjay, the girl on fire. I have to be what everyone thinks that I am. Strong. Reliable. Whole.

I dial the numbers I have unfortunately memorized. I have dialed her number so many times, only to hang up before the phone could even ring.

This time, my beating heart and shallow breath get quicker and quicker as I wait for her to answer. I haven't spoken to her in six months. Just after I had Amy. With each ring I can feel myself lose a bit more of the hold I had on my emotions when I was comforting Peeta. I feel one tear fall and then another until it seems like a never ending cascade of salty streaks down my cheeks. I need my mother. I need her.

"Hello?"

"Mom? Haymitch is dying."

**Author's Note: **Sorry about another short chapter :( I'm actually liking the plot I have planned, but this chapter is shorter because I'm still making some decisions as to who this next chapter will include. LEAVE ME YOUR FEEDBACK GUYS. I love getting it! I'm still so touched at how much affection this story has received. You guys are the best!


	7. So Out of Touch

She arrived quickly, and she arrived silently. She was suddenly just here. From the moment she walked in through our front door she was nothing but business. Mom got right to work on Haymitch. She spoke to all of the doctors; asked questions Peeta and I hadn't ever even thought to ask. I didn't have any time to regret asking her to come because the instant she arrived she made our lives a little easier. I was able to hold Amy again without being overwhelmed. I could be a wife again to Peeta.

And even though she was making our lives phenomenally easier, I still couldn't help but revert to that same child I was. I didn't want her helping. I did not want her in our lives again. She could not be trusted to keep us sane. After all of these years, after the lives we have managed to lead, she still gives Peeta sideways glances. She does not trust him. And I do not trust her.

It's time for me to go visit Haymitch. I bundle Amy up and place her in her stroller. It's heading into autumn now and the weather has cooled significantly. Peeta is in town working for Thom while he visits family in District 2. I decide to swing by the store and see him after Haymitch. Without a passing glance to my mother I walk out the front door and head to the Hospital.

"Katniss, wait." I don't know why I do it, but I stop walking. I can hear her walking behind me and when she is by my side I do not move. "Katniss please look at me," she whispers. Going against everything that I am, I slowly turn my head towards her. "Katniss, I'm trying I really am." I close my eyes and reprimand myself when I feel tears come on. "It's been a lifetime since you really tried," I say. "Now there is a man who despite everything he has been put through, and he has been put through losses as deep as your own, who has tried. Despite his very obvious flaws and imperfections, he has tried. He has been there for me when my own mother left. And right now, he is lying in a hospital bed and he needs me. And I will be there for him. Because he tried." I did not shed one single tear although my throat was thick with them.

The wind blows through my jacket and makes me shiver as I turn my back and silently walk away.

* * *

><p>I brace myself for whatever version of Haymitch I might find today. Will he be alert and awake? Or will he be sallow and unresponsive. I find that more and more it is the latter. So when I open his door and he is sitting up and wide-eyed and rosy cheeked I am immediately on guard. "What's got you so chipper today?" I push Amy's stroller so that she is beside his bed. As I work to release Amy from her seat, Haymitch speaks.<p>

"Apparently they think they've found me a donor." I fumble with the straps securing Amy and stand straight. This time, I do not halt any tears. These tears are not brought on by malice, but sheer happiness. "They what? A donor?"  
>My words come out as a whisper and I am breathless. Is it really happening? A donor?<p>

"Evidently someone is crazy enough to prolong my life." I roll my eyes. Typical Haymitch. I hear Amy let out a cry and I look down at her. She is reaching forward with her arms towards Haymitch. I lift her up and hold her to my hip. "Do you know who the donor is?" He shakes his head. "I didn't want to know." This surprises me. I would want to know who to thank. I do want to know who to thank. I raise an eyebrow to which he answers in a hushed tone. "If it's a stranger, they're risking their life for me and I don't want to be apart of that. If it's someone I know, I'll have to see their face constantly and know that I took something from them. Something vital."

These things had never once crossed my mind but I can understand what Haymitch means. This isn't something I have had to live with, but debt isn't something I could ever ignore. Knowing someone made that kind of sacrifice for me...I don't think I would be able to live with that kind of debt without repaying it back. But how exactly would you pay that kind of debt back? It's like the bread Peeta gave me all of those years ago. For the longest time, the debt that I felt I owed to him was impossible to repay. But this is literal life being given to Haymitch. The implications are enough to send me hyperventilating.

"I don't think I could know either." And yet there is a part of me demanding to find out. But if Haymitch doesn't want to know, it isn't my place to find out. I push all of these thoughts to the back of my mind and focus on something else. Everything might be ok. Amy is still reaching for Haymitch, so I settle her down next to him. She snuggles into his side. He looks down at her, and can't help but smile. His smile quickly fades though when his eyes meet mine.

"I don't want someone else losing their life for me. Not over this. I'm old. I've lived my life. I barely live as it is. I just don't want that hanging over me for the rest of this excuse of a life."

My old hatred for the Capitol bubbles forth. Them. Their games. This is their fault once more. Without the disgusting things they made us do, Haymitch would be a normal member of society. Married, with a mother and a brother. Sane, with a life of absolute normalcy. I am confidant in thinking Haymitch would not have turned to alcohol as a savior had this life had a chance to be. Why would he have need of such a crutch if he had no knowledge of any of the horrors that my version of Haymitch does? No. Instead he is lying in a hospital bed, his life ebbing away. And now, presented with a chance to live, he has to worry about taking away from someone else's life. Will the scars of the Capitol ever truly fade? I wonder if the Capitol will become a story meant to scare children later on. It's definitely frightening enough.

Even with the Capitol fallen, the arena's torn down, the Games at an end; the future generations will still have reap the repercussions. They will have disturbed parents, faulty grandparents; who knows how far down the ancestral line these wounds will travel. Amy has fallen asleep next to Haymitch.

"Everything will be ok."

He snorted. "Don't make promises you can't keep. We both know how that story ends."

Yes I do. That story does just that. It ends. But still. I can't shake the feeling everything might be ok. I take Haymitch's hand and give it a light squeeze. "Everything might be ok." He chuckles. "That's better."

* * *

><p>After I've left the hospital, promising to return within the next couple hours with Peeta, I make a mad dash for Thom's hardware store. The wheels on Amy's stroller are getting torn to bits I'm sure as I grind them against the pavement. I burst through the door to find Peeta straightening up one of the shelves. "He found a donor," I say, breathless from the run. His hands are around my arms; I realize only a second later he is holding me up. He has a big smile on his face and I know it must mirror my own. "He has a donor!" The tears are still falling. I reach up and brush some off of Peeta's cheeks. Amy begins to fuss again and so I take her once more from her seat and hold her close between me and Peeta. When his arms wrap around the two of us, I sigh. Maybe, just maybe, this won't be a tragedy after all. Peeta gets on the phone and calls another one of the workers to come in for him while he comes with me to see Haymitch.<p>

"Why don't we see if your mother can watch Amy for us while we go?"

It makes sense. It really does. I'm about to say no when Peeta just gives me this look. I know that look. It's the look he gives me when I am being unreasonable and stubborn. He's right though. We need to talk to Haymitch and the doctors and it would be a lot easier if we didn't have a fussy Amy with us.

I whip my head and around and start pushing the stroller back towards our house. When I walk in the front door, I'm not at all surprised to find my mother pouring over her medical books. I've always thought she knew herself best when she was practicing medicine. She looks younger when she's focused. She looks less troubled; less like the mother I've always known and more like the mother I've always wanted. A part of me hates to interrupt her. A more dominant part of me, the part of me that raised her child while she withered away, a part of me that had to lose everything not once or twice but several times while she sat back and disappeared, is glad to.

"Can you please watch Amy for us? We've got to go to the hospital. They've found a donor for Haymitch!" Peeta beat me to it. He was much kinder in asking than I had intended to be. His fingers clutched mine; he knows exactly what I would have said.

Mother looks up, startled; she was so deep in thought she hadn't even heard us come through the door? Shocking; my mother so out of touch with her surroundings. She looks at me, asking with her eyes. _Please forgive me.  
><em>I do not even blink, daring her to deny her grandchild. Daring her to deny me. Normally, if someone couldn't watch Amy, I was more than understanding. But after everything my mother hasn't done…

"Of course Peeta, I'll watch her." I break eye contact with her finally. I'm out the door before Peeta. I hear him tell my mother we'll back as soon as we can. I start the walk to the hospital but Peeta pulls me back.

"Wait Katniss."

"Not if what you have to say is about her."

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I can feel him chuckle. "It's not. I just…I just wanted to hold you, even if it is just for a second." I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him close. I lay my head against his chest and I feel his heart beat against mine. Moments where we were alone were so rare that even a touch to the cheek or a squeeze of the hand was a miracle. I missed having Peeta hold me. I miss it more than words can say.

Peeta slowly moves away from me, pulling my lips with his. Yes. I miss this very much. Not forgetting the task at hand, I shake my head, my breath erratic. Peeta's face is flushed and his eyes snap open. "Haymitch," I whisper. The frustration in my voice is not hidden at all.

"Haymitch," agrees Peeta. "And it was nice of your mom to watch Amy on such short notice." I growl.

* * *

><p>When we get back to the hospital, Haymitch is still awake sitting in the same position and I wonder if he has moved at all. It's been at least an hour. He lights up a little bit when he sees the two of us. Being in the hospital put him through painful withdraws and forced him into an unpleasant sobriety so he doesn't sleep all that much. Without the alcohol to chase away the nightmares, why bother trying?<p>

We take our seats next to him, Peeta's hand in mine as the doctor walks in. He smiles at us and I am instantly assured. If a doctor is smiling, that means good things are going to happen, right?

"Well Mrs. Mellark, your mother has passed all of the tests and we are pleased to say she's a perfect match for Mr. Abernathy."

Wrong.

**Author's Note: **I unintentionally lied. This chapter is still short. But I felt like I left it off at a good place. Chapter 8 is already one-sixteenth of the way done (not an actual calculation)! As always, I love all of the love I get. You guys feed my ego like crazy. KEEP FEEDING THE EGO MONSTER. For real though, thank you so much for the support. I love you all :D

Also, I know the Peeta and Katniss-ness is super lacking, but this chapter had to focus on Haymitch. Next chapter, I promise one of them will lose it and the other will come to the rescue!

(oh and super awesome points to whoever catches the Beauty and the Beast reference).


	8. The Woman Who Couldn't Stay

I'm sure Haymitch or Peeta responded. Or maybe the Doctor just kept talking. Either way, I couldn't hear a word they said. I stumbled backwards into Peeta; he gripped the sides of my arms, holding me up. If it weren't for his arms, I would be on the ground for sure. I still couldn't hear what they may or may not have been saying. The only words I could hear were in my head. _Your mother. Your mother. Your mother. _Over and over again. _Your mother.  
><em>  
>My mother; the woman with the disappearing act. The girl who couldn't stay. <em>Wouldn't <em>stay. Too afraid to stay grounded, but she could give away herself at the drop of a hat. She had always been this way. She couldn't be my mother, but she could be a mother to everyone else. Always willing to help those who needed her, outside of her blood line. It was the one thing I could never stop admiring about my mother. She really could help anyone and everyone. She was so medically talented.

"My mother…what?" I still can't wrap my mind around it. Haymitch was dying. Now Haymitch might live. My mother has never been a mother. My mother might save Haymitch. It's too surreal.

The Doctor looks puzzled. "You didn't know? Your mother has been undergoing tests for the past week to see if she would be a good match for Mr. Abernathy; she has passed them all." His words barely register in my mind as my eyes meet with Haymitch's. He looks broken.

"I don't want it," he whispers. Three pairs of eyes bare into Haymitch. "I'm sorry Mr. Abernathy, what did you say?"

"You heard me. I said I don't want it." Before the doctor can say anything, before I can even think of what to respond with, Peeta is already speaking. His hands shaking, he asks the doctor to leave. "We need to speak to Haymitch. Alone." The tone of Peeta's voice, the implication that if the doctor does not leave Peeta will make him leave, is enough to send him scurrying out the door, tail between his legs.

"You bastard."

My mouth drops open and I just stare at Peeta.

"Hey, don't even get angry with me. I'm not taking something like this from her mother. Not today, not tomorrow. I won't have that kind of guilt added to the years of guilt I've wracked up."

"You think we want this? No. If one of us could be the donor, we'd do it in a heartbeat whether you liked it or not. And now you have the opportunity, and you won't take it? You won't save yourself? You throw advice in our direction all the time Haymitch. Here's some for you. Stay alive," Peeta says. He is practically yelling at this point. I see him clench his fists, his muscles flexed, his jaw set in anger. Haymitch tears his glare away from Peeta and looks at me.

"What do you think of this? You want me to risk them butchering your mom and it all being for nothing too?"

I open my mouth, but no words come out. Then I do something I haven't done in years. I run away.

* * *

><p>Unlike the usual stupors I put myself in, I am fully aware of what I am doing. I am running. I am the mockingjay. I am <em>flying.<em>If they can't catch me, I don't have to be an adult. I don't have to make decisions. I don't have to choose. My mother, or my stand-in father. The past or the present. If they can't find me, I don't have to do anything.

She wanted my forgiveness. She begged for my forgiveness. I ignored her. Did she deserve it? I don't know. Is that an answer in itself? Shouldn't I just know? If my mother deserved to be forgiven, wouldn't I just feel it somewhere inside of me? I don't know.

Is this just my mother still trying to get me to forgive her? Maybe it's apart of her compulsive need to fix everyone who is damaged, beyond that of her family. Maybe she genuinely wants to help Haymitch. Maybe. Maybe. I don't know. Maybe. I am useless.

I reach my destination. I sink to the ground and curl into the fetal position. How many times have I done this? Countless. I feel the cool grass rub against my cheek; the breeze rifle through my hair. I have barely enough time to register the light fall of snow before I see the yellow flowers beneath the window.

I have reached my destination. I did not go to the meadow, or even just somewhere in the woods. I am home. Why did I take myself here? It isn't until I see those flowers that I know why. I know exactly why I am here.

I bang open my front door, knowing Amy is asleep behind her own door and wouldn't have heard it. But my mother did. She closes her book, startled once again by my presence.

"Did you ever once think of me when you offered yourself for him? Even one time?"

She is on her feet now; her face flushed with what I assume is anger. I resist the urge to laugh.

"You are all I have thought about this whole process! How can you even ask me that?"

I lose my grip on my emotions and chuckle.

"I can think of a million reasons why I would question your motives. Want me to go down the list?"

I do not allow her to protest. It's my turn to talk.

"When Dad died, I became a parent to your child. I was still a child. I had to take care of you, and Prim, and myself. I had to do it all. Because you were so far gone you couldn't look after your child. Your children. And then you decided it was time to get better. You decided when you were ready to take on the responsibilities of being a parent again, as though it were something you could just give up on whenever you felt like it."

I am distracted by the closing of the front door and realize Peeta has found his way back to me again. I don't allow him to distract me for very long though.

"When you felt like it, you became Prim's mother again. But not mine. Never mine. I knew you too well to welcome you back with open arms. But all Prim ever wanted was her mother, and as hard as I tried to be that, I just wasn't. Only you could do it. When I was reaped, I wasn't afraid of dying because my life would end. I was afraid of dying because of what it would mean for you two. Would you lose your mind again and leave Prim all alone? That was my biggest concern in that arena. It was a distraction in a fight to my death. Concern over my mother's sanity. Or would you be perfectly fine, not affected one bit by my death? Just another thought in my sixteen year old mind while I slept alone and cold in the woods, a knife by my side and blood on my hands."

"Katniss-," Peeta begins to interrupt me but my mother holds her hand up and shakes her head.

"No Peeta. Let her talk."

I am irritated at her commanding Peeta but I keep on going.

"But you managed and I will always be grateful for that. You held on just long enough to keep Prim alive while I was gone. You held on for Prim, and I respected you for that. Prim will always be like a child of my own. Did you know that? There was a night while you rocked in your chair, lost in your own mind that Prim was so deliriously sick and hungry that she thought I was her mother? Did I ever tell you that? Were you even aware? Because she was sitting in your lap when she said it. She was with you, in your arms, asking me, 'mommy where's the food?' begging me to feed her. And you just sat there and rocked away.

"And when we lost Prim, I got to see just how much like you I really am. I don't hold on in the face of tragedy. I thought I was strong. When I lost Peeta, I just barely survived. I was given more medication than I care to remember. I was in that stupor you were in. But when we lost Prim? I lost my mind. I became that shell of a human being you did. I never learned how to be nurturing or tender from you. I learned that from Prim. You know what I learned from you? How to disappoint those around me. I learned how to fade into nothing, until I become nothing. This is how I handle tragedy. I become nonexistent."

I am shaking and crying and I see the shock on Peeta's face. But I do not see it on my mothers.

"I become you. I was mentally gone from my baby girl for just a fraction of the amount of time you left me and I could barely live with myself. How did you do it? How did you just leave me? Why wasn't I good enough? Why was everything so much more important to you? You held on for Prim. Why didn't you hold on for me? I needed a mother too; I was so lost and so unsure of myself. I needed my mommy and you just left me. You left me. When you mentally checked out after Dad, you didn't run away. You stayed. I know how hard that must have been. We think too much alike. I felt the same way. I wanted to bolt when I found out about Haymitch. But I stayed, just like you stayed. For Prim.

"But you left me all alone in a house with nothing but shattered memories and empty halls. You left me. You left me! Why wasn't I good enough?" I hear the echoes and I realize I've screamed that last part. Two arms grip my stomach and I am pulled out of the house, my body flailing, trying to release itself so that I can attack my mother more.  
>When I finally am set down in the woods I lunge in the direction of our home but Peeta holds me back again. In his vice grip I am trapped, my mind fresh with unresolved anger and disappointment.<p>

"Let me go Peeta! Let me go."

"If you think I'm letting you go, you're insane." This has become almost a motto for us. He says this to me when I am at my worst; when I need him the most.

"I don't want to lose her! I can't lose her. She's Prim. She's all I have left of Prim. I can't." I can't lose her and I can't lose Haymitch. I will either lose one or lose both. Or keep both. But I do not have the same hope I had earlier with Haymitch. I do not think everything might be ok this time. How could it be? My mother was our only hope. Even if she goes through with the donation, her body could reject the loss of such a vital organ and she could wind up dead. Or her body will be just fine and Haymtich's will reject the intrusion of such a vital organ and he could wind up dead. Or a combination of these two scenarios and they could both die.

"They're both strong. Haymitch has held up this long. And your mother has her own strength. You won't lose them Katniss."

"I remember this one day, just before Prim was born. My father was still at work and mom had me in her lap, rocking me in that same chair that would become her prison later on. When I asked her if the baby in her stomach was going to be better than me, she looked at me very seriously and told me, 'no one will be better than you.' And I believed her. Until Prim was born. Just looking at her, I knew she was better than me; not in the way a little kid gets jealous. I just could tell that Prim was kinder than I was; she would be prettier than I was; she would be stronger than I was. I wasn't upset about any of these things. It just made me want to protect my baby sister all the more. But my mom promised me no one would be better than me in her eyes. When I was sitting alone in my house after the war, I could only think about that day. When my mother promised me something she had no trouble breaking.

"She left me Peeta. She left me and she promised me she loved me. That's what she meant, right? Obviously there are people who are better than me, but that wasn't what she meant. She meant that she loved me. And she left me."

Peeta still has me in his arms and I am sobbing into his shirt, probably ruining it.

"Katniss, there is no one better than you," said my mother. So she followed us. She followed us into the woods. I had to lift my head up from Peeta's shoulder to make sure my ears weren't playing tricks on me. She has never set foot in these woods to my knowledge.

"There is no one better than you," she repeats. "That's why I left. Because I thought I knew what was best for you. I thought you were strong enough without me. I thought that I wouldn't recover if I saw you everyday. If I saw the adult you had become without any guidance from me. I thought that I would be wasted space in your life. I thought that you didn't need someone like me around. I thought that I didn't need someone stronger than me around. I am so sorry my baby girl. My first baby. I am so sorry that I made you feel unloved. I never wanted to leave you, either time. With your father…I just couldn't help it. I literally was in such a dark place I didn't think I'd ever find my way out.

"I do remember that night. Hearing Prim call you mommy disturbed something in me. But it wasn't enough. Nothing really was. I had to come out of it on my own terms. And I did. But when she died…there was no excuse for me leaving you other than I was being naïve and selfish. In so many ways you are stronger than anyone I know. I did not think you needed me. I didn't think. When you called me about Haymitch I knew this was it. This was the moment you needed me and for once I wasn't blinded by my own selfishness to see that. At first it was just to take care of things around the house while you dealt with the things you needed to. But once I realized I might be a match for him, I had settled it in myself. I would donate whatever he needed as long as I was able to."

Peeta loosens his grip around me and I immediately reach for his hands and place them back around my waist. "Stay with me," I whisper. His lips murmur the response I already knew he would say into my hair. For a moment, I am warm in the cold air.

"I am doing this for you. And for Haymitch. I owe him the life of my only child left. He has kept you alive through two Hunger Games and so much more. He still looks after you. He is a consistently drunk alcoholic with his own demons he's fighting and he still manages to look after you," she glances at Peeta and continues, "both of you. He has taken care of the two of you while I was being a failure as a mother. And for that alone I owe him what I can give. And I can give him this kidney. I can. I am healthy enough. I am strong enough. I am doing this. Because I love you Katniss. I love you," she finishes.

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do with her words. When was the last time she had said those three small words to me? I can't even remember that is how long it has been. I don't have time to think of a reply though, because she is pulling me towards her and into her arms. Peeta lets go of me and walks away. Over my mother's shoulder I see that he is kneeling down, tucking a blanket around the bundled Amy. This is the scene that brings back the tears.

"How many jackets did you put on her?"

Mom pulls away from me, a confused look on her face. "Three. I didn't want her to catch a cold."

"You put boots on her too?"

She nods. "And a hat that covers her ears."

"Thank you. For taking care of her," I whisper. She nods. "Thank you." I can't say the words back. Not yet. But I think she knows I mean it because she hugs me to her again. "I know."

* * *

><p>That night I lay awake waiting for Peeta to finish up his shower. When he finally exits the bathroom, his pants on but his shirt off, he crosses to the window, still dripping water from his hair and opens it. I am prepared for this. I wrestled out our extra blankets from the back of the closet just in case the air outside remained frigid. I only have to use these blankets in the winter, but this fall appears to be bringing it early this year.<p>

"After all this time, you still sleep with the windows open," I say to him. He grins and pulls the blankets over us. His hair is still soaked. "You're gonna catch a cold you know." He smiles again. "Fortunately for us, we have a skilled healer in the house."

The mention of my mother makes me uneasy. Peeta takes note of this. "I mean you Katniss. Like it or not, you have a lot of qualities that a doctor has." I just scoff. The wind rustles through the room and I snuggle closer into Peeta's side.

"It's freezing!" His arms wrap around my waist and his lips are against my ear. "I can close the window if you want me to, but I really like what it does to you," he whispers. He means how close I am to him. I realize then we are finally alone. Not alone enough to do what I'd like to do, but that doesn't mean I can't kiss him. And kiss him I do. His fingers twine into my hair, tilting my head back as his lips travel down my throat. When they meet my own I make sure there is no separating the two of us. He is mine and I am his. I knot my own fingers into the hair that meets his neck. My cold fingers can't possibly have any affect on him now, not with the chill in the air, but when they brush against his chest he shivers and his lips press into mine more firmly. "Still like the cold?" I ask.

"More than ever," is his reply as he assaults my mouth again. I sigh into his kiss and he grins, his fingers finding my own. He rolls us over so that I am under him; I realize maybe we are just enough alone.

* * *

><p>We agree to tackle Haymitch as a pair. We will not allow him to take no for an answer. He does not have a say (even though he does). We will be firm and resolute in our wishes. We will only cry if absolutely necessary. When we walk into his room, it becomes absolutely necessary. In just one day, Haymitch looks a thousand times worse.<p>

"What happened?"

"The doctor says if I don't find a donor soon, it won't matter if I ever do," says Hatmitch, his tone nonchalant as he drinks what I hope is water. I take the cup from his hands and smell. Water. I give it back to him, satisfied. He scowls, knowing full well what I was checking.

"You have a donor Haymitch." Peeta has brought up the subject with ease, as I expected. I lace my fingers through his as flashbacks of last night come to mind. My cheeks burn and I try to distract my thoughts with the current situation we have on our hands. It isn't easy to do when Peeta's thumb is sliding across the back of my hand.

"I already told you, I'm not takin' that from her."

Now I have to speak. "Haymitch, she wants to do this. For you. For me. For herself. You told me you don't want to owe that kind of debt to someone? Look at it from her perspective. She feels as though she is repaying her own debt to you."

"Is that the only aspect you're looking at it from?" He knows me all too well.

"There are other reasons," I say, trailing off at the end.

"Right there. Those other reasons are why I can't do it. I can't take her away from you just because she thinks she owes me. I was just doing my job. Keeping you alive was my job."

"Then why do you still do it? Why keep us alive still if it was just a job to you?" I have to know his answer.

"Because now it's a privilege."

**Author's Note: **Odd way to leave off the chapter, but I have a lot planned for chapter 9. As always, thank you so much for all of the nice things you've had to say. This story is coming quickly to an end; only two more chapters and an epilogue left. I can't thank any of you enough for everything you've said about my writing, and this story. It keeps me writing! Reviews are amazing; I think we all know by now I thrive on them haha.


	9. I Protect I Preserve

Haymitch's admittance was unexpected and frankly broke my heart into a million pieces.

"It's a privilege to protect the two of you. You both are proof that as damaged as the Capitol has made us, you don't have to rely on alcohol or drugs or anything of the sort to rise above what they've tried to turn us into. You are proof that you don't have to end up like me. Protecting you is a privilege."

I honestly am at a loss of words. Haymitch has never been the kind of open person like Peeta is. He keeps it in; he stays in the darkness set in his own mind rather than embrace what could be. He is just like me in this way. But Peeta is always so good with his words.

"Well, protecting you is our privilege. You kept us alive when no one else would. You kept the both of us alive, through two impossible games and an impossible war. You saved her when I wanted her to be saved more than anything. You helped to get me back when she needed me. You helped me save my mind. You have been the stability in our lives that we never had before. And we still need you Haymitch. Our daughter needs you. This family, this family that you have preserved though all the odds were against us, we need you."

Haymitch averted Peeta's eyes and sought my own once again. "Do you want to put your mother at risk? Really and truly at risk?" I had been afraid of this question, and even more afraid of my answer. I was not good with words; I have never been able to accurately articulate what I am feeling. But I need to grow up and stop hiding behind excuses.

I find conviction in the silence that follows. "No. No I don't. But losing you without even trying is not an option. There is a possibility that you both will survive."

Suddenly, I am back in the arena. Claudius Templesmith has just informed me both Peeta and I can make it out alive. I feel that flame of hope rise within me, threatening to overwhelm everything else inside of me. I find Peeta. I protect him. I preserve him. And then Claudius has changed his mind. The Capitol has changed their mind. I have to kill Peeta or I have do die. One thing or nothing. But there is always a third option. The berries. All or nothing. Even as I put the berries into my mouth, I wondered if I had made the right decision. Would the Capitol choose to let us both die anyway? But no, they are far too selfish for that. They would rather prolong our lives. Make us into their pets. Keep us at their sides. What if they had chosen differently?

Prim would still be alive. I would be dead. Peeta would be dead. Amy would not exist.

"It may only be a possibility, but you know it's a strong one. More than likely, you both will be just fine. It's a risk I am willing to take." Just like with the berries, I will take my all or nothing chance.

"I'm willing Haymitch. But you have to be too."

He says nothing, taking in everything Peeta and I have given him to think about. For at least ten minutes there is not a sound, hardly a feeling other than the beeping of the machines hooked up to Haymitch and the feel of Peeta's hand in mind. Twenty minutes. Silence and hands. My legs itch to rest and I eye the chair pushed against the wall. Peeta follows me and pulls us to the chair; I end up in his lap and we resume staring at Haymitch, just waiting. Thirty minutes. Haymitch lays back and looks at the ceiling. I think he's finally going to speak but still, nothing. He just lays there, eyes up and thinking.

"I want to talk to your mother." I nod. I assumed just as much.

* * *

><p>I am not allowed in the room while Haymitch and mom discuss their options. I am left in the hall, fretting over the words being spoken just through the door. Peeta won't let me press my ear against it.<p>

"Let them talk. They need to."

"Oh sure, I agree with you. But why can't I hear? They can talk just fine with my ear against the door. They won't even know."

He smiles and just keeps his arm locked around my waist. "Katniss, come on." I huff. "Fine, but if they don't reach a verdict, and one I like things for today will not end pretty." He chuckles into my hair, causing goosebumps on my arms. I move away from him. "Quit distracting me!" He just laughs some more.

"Oh, I'm glad this is funny for you." I cross my arms and throw myself down into a chair. He kneels down next to me and turns my face to look at his. "I'm just as scared as you are, you know." I roll my eyes and am tempted to stick out my tongue in defiance. "I am. I'm just trying not to show it. I'm trying to make you smile or make you laugh. By distracting you, I'm distracting myself."

I continue to glare at him, but I know it isn't as strongly as before. This is affecting him just as much as it is me. "Alright, keep trying." He kisses just below my ear. "While affective, I don't think you should start something we can't finish right now," I whisper breathlessly. His low chuckle vibrates my cheeks with his lips still against my neck. The goosebumps are back.

"Whatever works is what I'm sticking with," he says, moving his lips against mine. My fingers are in his hair and I move closer to him. I forget we are in the hallway of a very public place. I forget for just an inkling of a second. And then the door opens and my mother finds me wrapped around Peeta in a very unlady-like way. I ignore the redness I feel envelope my cheeks and stay just the way I am in Peeta's embrace. It's all I can do not to vomit actually. If I move, the room will spin and I will hear the words I am terrified to hear.

"He's agreed to the surgery."

I am torn in half. More like into thirds. The three possibilities are so openly in front of me now. One. Nothing. All. Much like in the arena, I have feelings I cannot begin to understand, options and decisions that will forever outline the future in ways I have not yet even considered. Everything could end badly. Everything could end.

"We consulted with the doctor. We're going to operate tomorrow."

I buckle in Peeta's arms. "So soon?" She nods. "He really shouldn't wait any longer than he already has," she says sadly.

"Is he really so limited with the time he has left?"

She doesn't have to say a word. I can see it in her eyes. "That close to death and we didn't know it," I whisper more to myself than anyone else. I tighten my grip on Peeta. What if I lost him? What would I do? For just a moment I picture my life without Peeta. A life without my husband is not a life I want to live. But I have a daughter now. A beautiful bouncing daughter who is so full of laughter and nearly a year old and the perfect combination of Peeta and I. If I ever lost Peeta, I'd be beside myself with grief. But I have Amy to think of. And where my mother was not able to with me, I will raise her. I feel my eyes start to tear up. Ugh. This is all hypothetical. I will _not_lose Peeta; it is not even an option. A life without this man by my side is not in the cards for me.

I do this all the time. I think of the worst possible option, harping on it, forcing myself into a sadness that has no reason to exist. I should be happy right now! I will not lose Haymitch. I will not lose my mother. They both will be fine. Everything will be fine. It has to be. It has to be. _It has to be. _Anything else is just not an option.

* * *

><p>Mother stays at the hospital that night, preparing for the next day. When Peeta and I walk through our front door with Amy in our hands, it's all we can do not to collapse on the floor. We are exhausted. It has been a very emotionally tiring day. I get Amy dressed in her pajamas and hold her against me. She sees Peeta walk up to us and smiles, holding her arms out. "Dada."<p>

He takes her from and she wraps her tiny arms around his neck. Everything has to be perfect. It just does. I lean forward and kiss Peeta quickly on the lips. He tucks me under his other arm and I am lost in the bliss of this moment. This perfect undamaged moment with my husband and my daughter. Anything could change in a matter of seconds.  
>A minute. An hour. In our case, one day will change everything.<p>

Together we put Amy to bed and flick the light off in her room. I walk into the kitchen, beginning to clean the dishes from this morning. Peeta dries as I wash. We are so domestic now it is shocking. We are war veterans. Rebellion starters. And we are doing the dishes while our child sleeps in the next room over. This ordinary life of ours is so extraordinary I sometimes have a hard time fathoming it. I got everything I ever wanted that I never wished for. And now apart of it is crumbling away. "No!" Peeta stops drying the dishes and looks over at me.

I hadn't realized I voiced this out loud. "I keep thinking the worst," I explain, my voice hardly above a whisper. I see the muscles in his arm clench as he grips the counter. Not now. For just a few seconds, he holds onto the counter edge so tightly, I wonder if he might break a piece of it off. Peeta hasn't had an episode since that day six months ago, when Amy was still only a baby. I drop the dish I have in my hand into the sink, water splashing up onto my arms and Peeta's. My hands are still wet as I bring them around Peeta's waist, pulling him from the counter. Together, we sink to the floor, his head finding its way to my lap. This is how we spend most of his flashbacks.  
>I begin to hum the Meadow Song, my fingers brushing up and down his cheek. There are no tears in his eyes and his hands soon relax against mine. "Peeta?"<p>

His fingers stop mine from touching his cheek and he instead kisses my palm. "I'm here." I breathe a sigh of a relief. Although this time his flashback may have been brief, I am still terrified. Again, my mind conjures up the worst. _What if he hadn't come out of it?_

He smiles sadly as if he knows what I am thinking. He probably does. "I've said it a million times by now, but always."

"Always," I whisper in agreement, hugging him close to me. He sits up and hugs me back. We just hold each other for what could have been hours. I don't really know. I vaguely remember being carried into the bedroom and being tucked in. I remember rolling over into Peeta's side and I remember his arm slipping around me to hold me even more. I don't remember sleeping. I remember waking up. I remember the phone ringing. I remember hoping for the best. I remember something shattering on the floor. I remember Amy crying.

Peeta rushes back into the room. "They had to do emergency surgery on him Katniss. They said we should come to the hospital." I can hardly breathe. Hardly any breath. When did the air get so thin?

"Haymitch?" Peeta just looks at me and my world collapses when he answers me. "It's not Haymitch Katniss. It's your mom."

I had briefly considered this option. Maybe not briefly, but it was not as big of a concern to me as Haymitch's health. My mother is healthy, perfectly healthy. She had all the time in the world. She is the embodiment of health. Was. Was perfectly healthy. Now she is imperfect. She is not whole. She is broken again.

"Is she…is she alive?" Peeta nods, and the relief I feel is so intoxicating I can hardly keep myself from screaming. "They…they don't know how long she will last Katniss. She's slipping away."

She's slipping away. Again. She's leaving me. Again. I must have passed out because the next thing I can remember is Peeta pressing a cool cloth to my forehead. I glance over at the clock and realize I was only out of it for a few minutes. I try to sit up, but I nearly throw up from being so dizzy. I fall back against the pillow, waiting for the room to stop spinning. I am too stressed. This shouldn't be happening. This was a bad way to wake up. Everything just keeps escalating, getting worse and worse. "Can you get Amy ready? I'll be down stairs shortly. I just…I need a minute."

He kisses me lightly and leaves the room to go get our daughter. I place my hands over my stomach, willing the nausea away. There are promises to keep and a future to maintain. My child will have her grandmother around. She has to.

Don't die Mom. Please. Don't die.

**Author's Note: **Only one chapter left…and an epilogue! This has been such a crazy journey. It started off as a oneshot for goodness' sakes! I LOVE YOU ALL AND YOUR REVIEWS KEEP ME HONEST. I feel a little like a hooker. You give me love and I give it back. So a classy hooker. A hooker who's in it for the love, not the money (that's not a hooker that's a relationship…)….I just called us all hookers didn't I…REVIEWS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME.


	10. Rushing

For what seems like the millionth time, I am in the hospital, faced with the possibility of losing someone I love. I rush into her room and I see her, lying on the bed, eyes closed mouth slack with tubes down her throat. The monitor slowly beeps, and I walk over to the chart that continuously prints out of it. I see where she flatlined not too long ago. I keep listening. Beep. Beep. Beep. I wait for its falter. I wait for one long continuous never-ending beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Mom? Please don't go."

Beep. I crawl into the bed with her, careful not to pull on any of her wires lest I hear that long beep. Beep. Beep. "I need you mom. You can't just leave. I need you." I ignore the tears that fall. I would normally try to stop them, but I see no point in trying. There is no one I need to be strong for in this room. I can't be strong for anyone. I just need my mother.

"You're a grandma. And my mom. And you took care of my family when I didn't. You kept Amy warm when you took her outside. You can't leave. You're all I have left mom. Our whole life is gone, but I have you. Please. Please." Beep. Beep.

"Do you remember? Just after daddy died. I crawled in your lap. You were so sick. So far away. And I was so tired and hungry. So I crawled into your lap and just wrapped my arms around you. Do you remember? You hugged me back. You held onto me so tightly while I just cried and cried. You didn't say one word. I guess you couldn't. But still. You held me. Please." I wrap my arms around her and cry some more, reliving the past. Beep. Beep.

"Momma. I love you. Please." Beep. Beep. Beep...there it is.

* * *

><p>They dragged me out, kicking and screaming. They tossed me into the hallway while they went to work on my mother. Peeta collected me off of the floor, still thrashing like a maniac. He stands there, me in his arms, letting me let go. I scream obscenities I have not uttered in years. I throw out carefully locked away words against my mother, against Haymitch, against everyone. Somewhere though, in the back of mind, through this haze, I know not to mention Peeta. I am not so far gone as to know the damage one foul word from me can do. And with this realization I am pulled into the present. Although the victims of my anger are not anywhere near, I am sobbing apologies.<p>

"I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it Peeta." He runs his hand along my hair. "Shh. I know. I know you didn't."

"Mrs. Mellark?"

I lift my head from Peeta's shoulder. I can hardly see anything through the veil of tears. "We've stabilized her."

Stabilized her. She's alive. She's still alive. I bring my hand to mouth as the bile rises forth. Peeta releases me and I run for the bathroom. There is no holding it back this time. I vomit into the toilet bowl, clinging to the sides as everything in my system is dispersed. My hands shaking, I flush the contents of my stomach down the drain. Clutching my abdomen, I stumble out of the bathroom and back into the hall.

Peeta is in the chair, his head in his hands. Amy is still somehow asleep in her stroller. She could sleep through anything it seems like. When he hears me, he jumps out of his chair and crushes me to his chest.

"She's alive Katniss. She's alive." He shakes me a little. "Breathe Katniss!" I let out a breath I hadn't processed I was holding in. He holds me away from him, probing my eyes with his own. "Katniss, are you alright?"

I'm starting to feel sick again and I shake my head when the room starts to spin. I feel myself go limp in his arms and hardly hear him call for a doctor when everything just goes dark.

* * *

><p>When I come to, this time I am hooked up to a machine. I begin to hyperventilate. Where is Peeta? Amy? Is my mother alive? Is Haymitch okay? What is going on? A door to my left open and Peeta emerges with Amy. My breathing returns to its normal rate, but my questions continue to grow.<p>

"Peeta?"

I reach forward but the stiffness in my joints forces me to wince. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Just over a day," is his response.

I ignore the stiffness now and sit up. "What! What have I missed?"

Peeta hands me Amy and I notice I had reached for her. When would I stop forgetting to remember my actions? I cradle her to me and she plays with my hair.

"They're both fine. Your mother was reacting negatively to the change in her body, but the doctor says she'll pull through just fine. She may be a little weaker now, get winded a little easier, but she will be just fine. And Haymitch has shown no signs of any kind of rejection."

Every single weight on my chest lifts and floats towards the sky. It isn't until Amy tugs a little on the IV in my arm that I remember my own predicament.

"What's wrong with me?"

Peeta looks so unsure of himself. I'm terrified. Am I sick? I do feel clammy. And I have been incredibly dizzy lately. He smiles a little, but still can't seem to find the words. What would have Peeta speechless? It can't be bad, right, not if he smiled?

"Peeta, what's going? Why are you afraid to tell me?"

He shifts his weight off of his prosthetic leg and reaches one hand behind his neck. He blushes a little.

"Katniss, you're pregnant."

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me. I can't be pregnant. Not again. A mother of two? This was never my plan! A mother of two. I am hardly able to mother my daughter. I can't be pregnant again! After everything I put my body and Peeta through during my pregnancy with Amy, I simply can't do it again. Even so…I don't feel that terror inside me. Not like the last time at least. It's still there, but it isn't dominant. Peeta lays his hand across my stomach and tilts my chin so that I'm looking into his eyes. His eyes, which are so blue, bluer even now with the tears in them.

"Katniss?"

He sounds thrilled, but behind the thrill I can hear the fear. I put that fear there; I am the reason why this joyous occasion is laced with dread. I can't become that awful version of myself again. I am Katniss Mellark and I will remain strong in the face of terror. I can do this. I did it once. I can do it again.

And then it's as if Peeta's joy makes its way into me. I feel the fright melt away, inch by inch, bone by bone. I feel it all replace itself with a kind of euphoria. Slowly, I stretch my cheeks as far as they will go.

"A baby?" The smile widens. "We're going to have a baby?" I'm in Peeta's arms so fast I have hardly any time to process it. Amy clings to our embraced bodies, squeezing us tightly in her little arms.

"Momma?"

I bite my lip to keep from sobbing. "Hey baby girl. Guess what? You're gonna be a big sister!"

She smiles, touching my cheeks. She has no idea what I'm saying, but my smile is enough to make her smile, which just makes me smile even more. I balance her on my lap and kiss Peeta.

"A baby," he whispers. I nod. "A baby." It comes crashing down on me. I want to tell my mother.

* * *

><p>Once the doctor gives me the ok to unplug myself and get dressed back in my own clothes I know I have to very important visits to make.<p>

"Haymitch?" Even after everything, he's still the one I want to be the first to know. He's lying in his hospital bed, already looking vastly improved from the last time I'd seen him.

"I see you took Peeta's advice." My hands are behind my back as I just stand there, looking at this father like figure in my life. I earn a chuckle out of him. "Stay alive seems pretty universal, doesn't it?"

I nod my head. "Oh yes. It works as an everyday phrase. At least in our every day." He laughs again.

"You look good Haymitch. You look so much better."

"Well, the doctor says I'm making improvement. Says I'm getting better by the hour almost."

"Interesting. My doctor says I'm pregnant."

His eyebrows shoot up and he stares at me. I cross my arms and just nod. "It's true. I'm carrying baby number two."

"It's all getting better isn't it," I ask. "Looks that way." I throw my arms around him, ignoring how uncomfortable it makes us both. "I'm really glad you're ok Haymitch," I whisper. He hugs me back. "I'm glad your happy."

* * *

><p>This time I enter the room slowly, afraid of what my mother will look like. She did die yesterday after all. I know her heart stopped. That's what those beeps were telling me. She was gone, really and truly gone, if only for a moment.<p>

"Mom?" I see her move her head in my direction and I resist the urge to cry again. She looks so tired, so weak. Her hair is matted to the sides of her face, her eyes are baggy and swollen. "Katniss." Even her whisper is broken.

"Mom." I'm trying so hard to be strong for her. I always have to be strong for her. I'm afraid to let myself go. I'm still so afraid of sending her back to that place; just like with Peeta, I am afraid she will be trapped forever in her own mind.

"Katniss, honey, I'm going to be fine. The doctor said I just need a lot of rest, but I'm okay, really, I am."

This takes me by surprise. I am so unused to her being strong for me. I'm not sure if it's something I'll ever be accustomed to.

She beckons me forward and I crawl into the bed with her again.

"Mom, I'm pregnant."

"What? Baby girl, you're pregnant?"

I slowly nod, unsure of everything again. This is the woman who sparked my doubts on motherhood in the first place. She is one of the reasons why I never thought I could do it. But one look at Amy and I know I can. One look at the woman holding me, despite her health, and I know I can.

* * *

><p>Mother stays with us for a few months, resting and recuperating, but she is determined to heal and get back to her home in District 4. She claims it's because of work, but I just don't think she can handle the ghosts of District 12 anymore. I can't blame her. Not anymore. For once, I am sad to see her go. I am terrified and an overwhelming sense of lonliness threatens to overtake me.<p>

"Mom, promise me. Promise me you'll call. Not every now and then. Regularly. If I don't hear from you for even one day, I am going to call you and call you until you answer the phone." I am holding her close, holding her like she is a child. There's a part of me that will always think she is.

"I promise Katniss," she says.

I let her go and watch her board the train. By now, my stomach is bulging a bit. There's no hiding the pregnancy anymore, that's for sure.

"Momma, I'm hungry." Amy tugs at my shirt. She is talking so much more now. Full sentences. Every now and then, Peeta and I will have to try and decipher her words, but that happens less and less. She is fascinated by the baby though. All day long she just touches my stomach and asks what the baby will be like.

"The baby will be small, smaller than you. And the baby will make you giggle so much your tummy will hurt. But the baby won't be you my little Amaranth. The baby will be its own person, and you are you. You are the only Amaranth. The most important Amy there is."

"Most important momma." Well, maybe not full sentences.

"Come on baby girl. Let's go get Daddy and eat some lunch."

* * *

><p>By the time the baby is due, I'm long past wanting it out of my stomach. From the moment my water breaks, I am rushing Peeta to the hospital. Rushing the doctors. Rushing the baby. Rushing rushing rushing. And then there's this little cry. I'm so tired and I'd love to go to sleep, but I need them to rush again. I want that baby in my arms now. They clean its little face and little hands and little body and then they hand the baby to Peeta. He's crying and I'm crying and the baby is crying.<p>

"It's a boy Katniss. A little boy."

I'm choking back the sobs. "A son? We have a son."

He's nodding as he put the baby into my outstretched arms. "We have a son."

"Basil. I want to name him Basil."

Peeta kisses the top of the baby's head. "Basil it is then."

"Are you sure? I don't want to just pick his name."

He kisses me so hard that I'm breathless. "Katniss, you have given me not one, but two beautiful children, despite all of your fears. You could name him Chicken and I would be okay with that."

I roll my eyes and laugh. "Chicken?"

"Chicken. Besides, I like Basil. It fits."

It does. Basil fits. My son. Basil.

** Author's Note: **Okay, before everyone hates me for the ending, I AM DOING AN EPILOGUE. And yeah, I know. Basil is kind of odd. But I figured, Katniss is a plant, Prim was a plant, Amaranth is a flower, Basil is an herb. It's all plan related people! Peeta is the odd one out, but I wasn't doing bread names, sorry.

And another thing, RFNWKTNKLWNEG I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S ALMOST OVER I AM HAVING A CONNIPTION OVER THIS. I already have three one-shots lined up to fill the fanfiction void in my heart once I finish this. Seriously. I am going to be dead inside.


	11. Epilogue

**This kind of just picks up literally where the Mockingjay epilogue ends. I just wanted to say thank you so much for everything! This started as a simple one shot and just kind of exploded because of all the nice things everyone has said. Thank you so much for reading this, and continuing to read it. I'm deliriously sad that it's come to an end, but I do have a couple THG one shots I'm working on. If you have ever had any questions or anything, just let me know. I always reply back :D Wahhh I don't want you to read this, because then it's really over **

Basil trips over his own feet again as he continues to chase after Amy. She just laughs, her dark hair catching in the wind. Peeta wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me into his side. I rest my head against his shoulder as we watch our children play. Basil, frustrated, throws himself on the ground and just watches Amy. "You're too fast," he complains. She just giggles. "Come on Bay, you can catch me! I know you can!" With his sister encouraging him, he gets back on his feet and keeps the chase going.

"We'll be okay Katniss. Look at them. Do you believe for even a second they won't trust us when we tell them?"

Amy looks over at us and grins. "No."

He kisses the top of my head. I'm still skeptical. "But the things we've done Peeta…"

"We've never done anything uselessly. There was always a reason."

Always a reason. Always. "They'll understand."

He nods in agreement. "They will." I glance at the watch on Peeta's wrist. "Come on kids, let's go visit Grandpa!"  
>Thrilled, they end their game and run over into Peeta's and my arms. Basil with me, and Amy with Peeta. I plant a kiss on Basil's cheek. "Wanna go visit Grandpa?" He nods excitedly. The kids love Haymitch.<p>

As they both cling to me and Peeta, he looks over and asks our age old question. "Real or not real." A big smile is plastered onto his face and I think back to the many times he has asked me this.  
><em><br>You love me, real or not real._

"Absolutely real."


End file.
